


The Pilgrimage

by Danko_Kaji



Series: {Her Angel & His Savior} The Road Ahead; Lost In The Winds Of Change [1]
Category: Final Fantasy X & Final Fantasy X-2
Genre: F/M, Gen, Metafiction, Multi, Normal Ending, Other, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-02-05
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-15 10:06:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 81
Words: 21,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danko_Kaji/pseuds/Danko_Kaji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, the world will be a safer place, and they can live happily ever after. Yuna/Baralai vignettes, follows the Sad Ending continuity. Gift-ficlet for Sorrow has a Human Heart. Rated for violence, psychological trauma, disturbing themes, and erotic content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fortune

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sorrow has a Human Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sorrow+has+a+Human+Heart).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Ending Arc, part 1: A quick peek into the future.

  
**  
**I. Fortune**   
**

_****{The best has yet to come, there's still eternity}_

Small circles stroke his hands, performing a pseudo palm reading, discovering superficial scars, an array of white lines, and invisible calluses. Yuna sees a painful and happy past, a present full of potential and hope, proceeding without stop to a promising future.

Her ministrations make him smile, his thoughts a little remorseful, as Baralai humors his lady's curious and inquiring stare.

"Well, I wasn't always a bookworm."


	2. Ire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood Arc (Magic Meta), part 1: Baralai learns the hard way never play with fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Influenced by owlmoose's fanfic "Elemental".

  
**II. Ire**

 _{He vows never to breathe fire again}_

Baralai witnesses his mother’s harmless rendition of fire magic; a bush ignites, flames glowing orange and wild in the wind like plasma wings. Weeks later he throws a tantrum; the precious china splits at the cracks, breaking from the lethal hot pressure, the bright colors and pretty pictures charred, crumbling to ash, and Baralai holds back tears when his father spanks him. Many months later he sulks for wanting to sate his curiosity; a tree serves as its own burning stake, dying for simply being chosen a target of abuse.

Years have come and gone, and Baralai watches fiends fall victim to the spell. A Wasp rasps in pain, plummeting, dispersing in millions of ghost particles, or a Murussu, arms wide and bulky, armor tough to pierce. Its barriers are useless while the flames lick at its meek body, having slipped through its physical defenses, sapping its strength, draining its life, and it slumps without a sound. Pyreflies highlight its passing, soon disappearing before his solemn eyes.

In time, his temper becomes too calm to cast fire, proof of the destructive energy fizzling from his fingertips.


	3. Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood Arc, part 2: Baralai and Yuna realize their respective roles in Spira.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics homage to one song: "Join Me" (cover) - Gregorian Chant.

  
**III. Burden**

 _{We are so young, our lives have just begun}_

Baralai’s _outo-sama_ offers a razor rod, a family heirloom, bamboo wood thrice divided, as a heartfelt gift. The staff feels heavy, dangerous, the weight too much for a child to bear, but he doesn't dare complain and be ungrateful. Sharp steel flashes beneath sunlight. Careless of where his fingers hold, blood oozes from the fresh cuts.

"Father, why are my hands red?"

~

Yuna's _sensei_ proffers a staff, head a golden flower crown, lacquer a polished sapphire, as an act of charity. Smile strained and honest, she struggles to hug the long, cold, hard scepter to her bosoms. The twin bells attached on the end jingle in her trembling grip. Her cursed eyes are timid, unsure of what to expect for herself.

"Auntie, does this make me a Summoner?"


	4. Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood Arc (Magic Meta), part 3: Yuna prays for a miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics homage to a song: "Tidal Wave" - Owl City.

  
**IV. Prayer**

 _{Help is on the way, do not lose faith}_

The fisherman bleeds faster than Yuna believes possible. Eyelids flutter, cataracts form, and breaths fall shorter and faster and quieter. Yuna shakes him, shoves his chest, punches his shoulder, slaps his arm, _anything_ to keep him awake long enough for Auntie to arrive.

Tears pool in her mismatched eyes, deluging the grisly artwork of wounds dealt by hungry piranhas, granting clarity in an otherwise gory, flesh-torn, bone-bitten nightmare. She latches onto his mutilated torso, clutching his shredded shirt, squeezing her eyelids shut, hoping with all her might for him to live. Cries rip through her lips and sobs shudder her lungs as her body trembles in heartbreak.

 _‘Wait a little longer, you have to survive, you can't make everyone sad... Fayth, I don't care how, please, oh please let him live...’_

Warmth radiates somewhere beneath her, originating from her ruddy fingertips, leaving behind a chill in her spine, cold exhaustion. Panicking voices are hushed, silenced by wonder, and white light blinds every corner of the darkness.

"It's a miracle..."


	5. Energy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood Arc (Magic Meta), part 4: Baralai steals innocent lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics homage to a song: "Shadow of the Day" - Linkin Park.

  
**V. Energy**

 _{The sun will set for you, life cannot last forever}_

Baralai frolics in the Calm Lands, all giggles and grins, pausing for a heartbeat to see his parents not too far behind. He soon collapses after many leapfrogs, and dizzy spins, and prowling in the wild grass, completely spent and happy. Nestling in the warm, dry soil, he closes his eyes and can sense _life_. The mysterious radiance of the earth, the insects' frisky crawls, and the grass's lazy sway in the mute breeze.

He lies there, motionless, yearning to borrow this energy and play some more. _‘If only I can touch it, feed off it, swallow it up, and keep it for myself, I can play forever...’_

These childish thoughts cause him to be giddy and restless and greedy for more fun, and feels his energy returning, gradually, faster than usual, in no time at all. Lifting himself on his knees, Baralai stares at his hands, clenching and unclenching them, enraptured by the replenished strength, disregarding this dreary scene.

The grass beneath him has wilted, fertile soil stale and ashen, insects now limp and curled unto themselves, forever frozen. Departing memories are freed, rescued by death, and soul remnants illuminate young and ignorant eyes.

“...what have you done?”


	6. Absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood Arc, part 5: Youth wonders about this mysterious thing called love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vignette title homage to a song: "Dream of an Absolution" - Lee Brotherton

**VI. Absolution**   


_{Dream, oh lonesome ones, of your lost soul mate}_   


Yuna keeps hearing bad things about her mother– _“that shameless gypsy, seducing the High Summoner, she deserved what she got coming, dying at the mercy of Sin”_ – cannot take it anymore, will not hear of it. She turns to her new friend, the young Ronso, seeking answers. The humanoid lion stands tall, despite the broken horn, with arms folded and long tail swishing; gold feline eyes scrutinize the young girl.

"Kimahri. Did father hate mother? She is an Al Bhed, and people hate Al Bhed, don't they? I don't understand..."

"Braska not love Al Bhed woman, Yuna not have life."

~

Baralai does not see love as a foreign concept, far from it. Tough love raised him, but not this kind of love. He sees it all the time when his parents think he's not looking, where his father acts soft and his mother plays passive, where brute force and pure magic are not necessary, does not exist in their little world, all their defenses stripped bare. He does not understand this intimate vulnerability, feels somewhat shameful, and envious, too.

 __

 _‘Why can't I make mother just as happy or father just as safe?’_


	7. Strife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood Arc, part 6: Practice makes perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homage to three songs, 1)quote in italics, 2) Yuna's ending line, 3) Baralai's ending line: "This Is War" - 30 Seconds to Mars, "A Little More" - Skillet, "Someday" - Nickelback.

  
**VII. Strife**   
__

_{Right foot, then left, raise your hands into the sky}_

Baralai trains in the dark, the moon missing from the sky. He cannot see the ground, the landing of his feet, or what he's supposed to hit; repetitive effort infuriates him. Days pass fighting blind, tripping, stumbling, receiving bruises, memorizing lofty foot holdings and muddy depressions, and his harsh breathing and heavy heart pounding eclipses all other noises. His father supervises his progress, arms crossed, back straight, smile proud.

A little more – Baralai chants with all his might – these weak thrusts, aimless strikes, and slow swings will become strength proven true.

 __

 _‘A little more, and I can protect everyone I love.’_

~

Yuna dances in the light, the sun winking below the clouds. Her bare feet are caked in dirt and bristles and sharp pebbles, progressive pain the symbolism of Spira's hopes and dreams. Once again she picks up her staff, extending her arms, breathing deep, falling back into position, repeating the taught steps. Auntie meanwhile exercises patience, tapping her foot, black eyes sharp as a hawk, white smoke coiling and rising from her lit tobacco pipe.

Someday – Yuna prays with all her heart – these awkward strokes, clumsy swoops, and silly twirls will become elegance made reality.

 _‘Someday, my dancing will make people happy.’_


	8. People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood Arc, part 7: Society and the sacred arts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics homage to a song: "All The Right Moves" - OneRepublic.

  
**VIII. People**   
__

_{All the right moves and all the wrong faces}_

Baralai traverses the streets of Bevelle on his way to the temple, excited to continue honing his latent talent in the sacred arts. Living in isolation, away from the majority, the prejudice, and stupid stereotypes can make you kinder to strangers–

He greets passerby with quick smiles and brief hellos, taking care to look over his shoulder when turning a corner or crossing the street or weaving through a sudden dense crowd, feigning curiosity.

–and more suspicious, too.

~

Yuna skips with elation on each bounce on her way to the temple, nervous to begin her training with the genetic abilities she inherited. Living in isolation, away from civilization, their inborn hatred, and racial discrimination does not make you immune–

She treats villagers with polite words and caring eyes, unaware of them avoiding eye contact, or how strained their smiles are, less strained than before, or the indifference in their tones, yet they are tolerant.

–neither are you exposed to it.


	9. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Fantasy Arc, part 1: Operation Mi'ihen, the aftermath.

  
**IX. Dawn**

 _{The day before tomorrow, the day after yesterday, sunrise}_

Baralai awakens alone in a room that does not belong to him, within a secure cocoon of thin blankets, eyes crusted and squinting. The orange rays of the morning sun spills through the open window, granting the disoriented teenager warmth from the cold depths of his bewilderment. His drowsy brown eyes bulge at the violent pangs erupting in his backside.

Memories with incredible clarity explode inside his mind, forcing him to remember the events leading up to this very moment, this delusional realization – _‘My friends betrayed me.’_

A heartrending scream penetrates the calm and peaceful atmosphere, shaking the very foundations of the planet.

~

Yuna stirs at quiet snippets of conversation, body aching at the slightest movement, kimono wrinkled and rustling. Voices are no longer hushed when exuberance greets her undignified awakening. The young lady blinks, dubious, blue-green eyes widening in panic upon perceiving the time, another day gone from the countdown.

With unkempt hair plastered to her, Yuna falls victim to her company's laughter once outside Djose Temple, disgruntled for being picked on, but understands, and glances at Tidus – _‘the only one really laughing... is you.’_

She had labored until dawn – healing the wounded, sending the fallen – closing another chapter of her quest.


	10. Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood Arc, part 8: Kimahri takes Yuna away from a world of hurt.

  
**X. Guardian**   


_{A man's will can move mountains}_

Orphaned at the tender age of seven, Yuna's tiny fingers are curled inside a strong, protective grip. Together with Kimahri, her only lifeline, they depart from the holy city, Bevelle, where Yuna waves goodbye to the retreating Highbridge.

Traveling south of the continent, treading the crystal woods of Macalania, braving the plains of perpetual thunder, they make a quick visit to the Farplane, to pay their respects to High Summoner Braska. Watching a cluster of pyreflies gather to create familiar silhouettes, Yuna thinks while tears stream free, solemn and silent, _‘he looks happy beside mother,’_ unaware of pyreflies mimicking her last memory of them, separate memories, smiling at her.

They soon exit Guadosalam, traversing the dusk-lit bandit-ridden paths of the Moonflow, riding a shoopuf to cross the riverbank, its deep waters obscuring fossils that once belonged to a prestigious machina city. "City too heavy. Crushed bridge. Disappeared in water. Karma attacked people. Punishment for using machina," comprises Kimahri's fragmented answer, and since then Yuna learned to stifle selfish desires, so Sin wouldn't find a bad reason to punish her for being a good girl.

Skipping Djose Temple, Ixion's marker, they walk the road famous for its mushroom rock formations, and then the long stretch of crooked cliffs and lush green of Lord Mi'ihen's Highroad, until arriving at the mother of sports and festivities, Luca. Boarding a ship to traverse the dangerous seas, passing the ruins of Kilika, the island of Ifrit and its fiend-infested forests, all the while wary of Sin prowling in the vast waters – they reach Besaid at last, a backwater island littered with obsolete machina.

Yuna and Kimahri step foot hand-in-hand into their new home.


	11. Solitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Ending Arc, part 2: Memories or promises?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homage to three songs, 1) quotes in italics, 2) Yuna's thoughts, 3) ending line: "Hurricane" - 30 Seconds to Mars feat. Kanye West, "Join Me" (cover) - Gregorian Chant, and "Pieces" - Red.
> 
> 1) Line stolen from _Sorrow has a Human Heart's_ deleted fanfic "Memories or Promises?"
> 
> ...Chapter 9, I believe, or 11. It's been awhile, sadly.

  
**XI. Solitude**

 _{Heartbeat, a heartbeat, I need a heartbeat}_

Suspended in this one moment, tears cascading, fireplace blazing, her sniffling and his breathing meld in the calm background. Yuna doesn’t know why she came in the first place. Back to Bevelle, her birth home, a place that had mistreated her, accused her, branded her an outlaw all those years ago. Another lifetime. A life full of Sin. A life where Yuna met Tidus.

 _‘This life ain't worth living... without him...’_ But there are people who still care about her, who wish for her happiness, yet what continues to stop her? _‘Myself.’_

It's no longer about want anymore, it's need. Need for a friend, a confidant, someone alive and awake, whose strong arms cradle her in his solid, warm embrace, this comforting presence of a man who exists. Intoxicated by this unique scent, a harmonious mixture of the temple's incense and his own cologne(1), Yuna can't escape it. Hunted by the cupid's arrow, clinging onto illusory remnants of him, her hapless hopes are slain by a golden stream of light.

Yuna came to Baralai in pieces, so he could make her whole.


	12. Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood Arc, part 9: Baralai's last day home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics homage to a song: "Stronger" - Kanye West.

  
**XII. Warrior**

 _{What doesn't kill you can make you stronger}_

A curvet, followed by a vicious thrust of his staff, dual-edged and sharp and shining in the sun's glare. He focuses on his imaginary foe, aiming for its vitals, always swinging for the jugular, a clean death every time. Pivot after pivot, elbow jabs and fast feints, his heels are shy of the ground as he spars with his internal adversary. The keen edge whistles while slicing air; twirling his staff high, his arms act like Herculean rotors as kinesthesia disengages a unique component, twin rings unfurling to use sharp steel.

Raising a storm of glittering dust and volatile leaves and crystal slivers, the mini typhoon billows the layers of his priest garb – a war-angel in the flesh. Baralai is eighteen, growing up, and ready to set out for the world.


	13. Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Ending Arc, part 3: Life works in weird ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics homage to a song: "It Was a Business Doing Pleasure" - Four Letter Lie.

  
**XIII. Chance**

 _{Oh my God, I never thought he'd disappear}_

Yuna asks years later, when time has passed for Lulu to lose Chappu, for Tidus to arrive in Spira, for Sin to be gone for good, for Tidus to complete the dream and disappear, for Wakka to propose, for Lulu to make up her mind and say yes, for the two to expect and conceive a baby, their “future,” Vidina, for Yuna to save the world twice–

"How did you learn to move on without Chappu?"

"Not without." The new mother smiles, a rare and sad one, tapping her forehead. "He chose a different life, that's all. And so did I. We are not without each other, in memory."

Yuna's eyes stray to her significant other, who bonds with Wakka while trapped in a noogie a little too violent to be considered friendly. It's a stretch to say Wakka hates Baralai's guts, but she wouldn't have him any other way.


	14. Gaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 1: They are no longer the people they used to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics homage to a song: "Craving (I Only Want What I Can't Have)" - t.A.T.u.
> 
> 1) _"I love her."_

  
**XIV. Gaze**

_{We always want what we can't have}_

"I believed in you once. When we were training for the Crimson Squad, I thought I'd never find a better friend. But you betrayed that... two years ago."

Seeing his back, so open and distant, shoulders no longer thin, but broad, his posture no longer lax, but stiff and dignified – it occurs to Nooj that Baralai isn't a child anymore. Betrayal can change a person, made Baralai become the young man everyone on Spira expects him to be and much more, Praetor of New Yevon.

_"Why did you shoot?"_

~

"These past two years, Yuna has always been looking ahead into the distance. Always her back is to me. I like this Yuna more than the Yuna that is facing me."

Picturing her backside, so close and curvaceous, shoulders sometimes slumped, as if disappointed, her posture sometimes rigid with responsibility – it comes to Aniki's attention Yuna is a blossoming woman. Freedom can liberate a soul, spurred Yuna to abandon the role Spira doesn't need anymore, High Summoner of the Eternal Calm.

 _"E muja ran."_ (1)


	15. Boredom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood Arc (Magic Meta), part 10: Boredom motivates creativity and experimentation.

  
**XV. Boredom**

 _{The trigger of insane motivation to do anything}_

Baralai sits in his room bored one day, bored after completing his chores, bored of reading books, bored of exploring the woods, bored of fighting fiends, bored of doing nothing – he spots a stuffed animal, ratty, worn, and missing a button for an eye, sitting alone at his desk.

Amusing himself with silly delusions, he sees his childhood toy talk, dance, laugh, cry, jump, dive, _fly_ – and Baralai gasps in astonishment when it does. Floating, suspended in midair, due to the power of his will and latent magic. His thoughts serve as invisible conduits, clinging to the object, manipulating the doll in whichever fashion he so wished. Baralai witnesses his doll debut as a daredevil, ascending, descending, performing back-flips and somersaults, colliding into the ceiling, bounding off the walls, skirting to and fro across furniture; a variety of creative tricks invented by a bored teen with a lot of time on his hands.

Startled by his father's presence, footfalls stealthy and stare curious, Baralai loses concentration, causing the doll to plummet and hug the ground, a lifeless object once more. With a sheepish smile and a slight shrug, Baralai says, "I was bored."


	16. Gypsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 2: Baralai attends Yuna's concert incognito.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title homage to a song: "Gypsy Woman" - Hilary Duff.

  
**XVI. Gypsy**

_{Never fall for the pretty face, love tastes like wine}_

Cloaked in street clothes, priest robes discarded for the sake of blending in amongst the inebriated youth and crazed fans, Baralai enters the Stadium after admitting his ticket, a baggy hood camouflaging the iconic face of New Yevon.

The open roof now closed to preserve darkness, neon lights flash, joyous shrieks resound, and what used to be the sphere pool for Blitzball has become a temporary stage. Statue of a modernized plump priest beholds a drum set with an azure plate balanced on top of its golden, bald head, his gluttonous grin mocking Baralai from where he approaches. Weaving through masses of people, pushing pass them with gentle nudges and polite taps, he finally reaches the front row, hands gripping the iron railing, eyes riveted on the woman swathed in limelight. Solemn stillness forsaken in motion, special effects, and modern music – the High Summoner pursues pop stardom now? A rather scandalous new lease on life, too out-of-character for someone so humble.

Male back-up dancers teleport on site, miming the young woman's rehearsed dance steps. Guitarists and bass players revolve around the spectacle on top machina jet platforms, creating the lyrical craft of pure electrical noise.

_"It's real emotion shakin' up the world, I'll never give it up, I don't ever want to lose this far, No more than I can do when I am just too wrong, And in my heart I can hear you say, That I am not alone~."_

Insolent smiles, sultry sways of the hips, hand signs spelling seduction, lyrics lusting for fame and a lover – _‘This is not Yuna. It has to be an impostor.’_ There's nothing admirable about her provocative moves, nothing impressive about her personality’s vulgar make-over.

Two party crashers desecrate the songstress's stage without warning, ruining the performance of captivating foul play, much to the consternation of the audience. Discontent and excitement explodes in riots. Baralai stands at the sidelines, unable to do anything as the cat-fight commences between three notorious girls.

_‘This isn’t any of my concern, but I hope Paine knocks some sense into Lady Yuna.’_


	17. Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crimson Squad Arc, part 1: Baralai performs the Sending at Sanubia Sands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics homage to a song: "Now We Are Free" - Lisa Gerrard, Hans Zimmer.
> 
> Inspired by _Sorrow has a Human Heart's_ fanfic "Memories or Promises?"

  
**XVII. Soul**

 _{We are free now, dance for the rain to fall}_

Corpses are lined up on the sand in direction of the empyrean, faces pallid, eyes glazed, hands clasped on their bosoms. Summoners are fortnights away and Baralai volunteers to send them as an acolyte sufficient for the ritual. Casual clothes and comfort forsaken in preference to the occasion on this blistering hot dusk; a regal, green vestment synonymous of Yevon religion.

Maester Kinoc, plump stature straight true to protocol, gives Baralai a single nod. Solemn sepia eyes avert to the horizon, soon closed shut in a moment of prayer, prompting the entire company of the Crimson Squad to follow his example. Proud warrior monks reserved in sorrow, brash trainees silent in anguish, they stand dutiful, split into two rows. Baralai wishes, no, _wills_ peace and happiness for the soon-to-be departed souls, the soldiers he fought alongside and against and even grew acquainted with. Lives lost in a fiend ambush, over two-to-three dozen overwhelmed by a small horde of Sand Worms.

Razor rod rising, twin rings winking in the sunset, Baralai stretches his arms to the sky. One step in and he lunges, sweeping the sand, spinning in a half-circle, steel gliding above his head and flashing its tears. Curvet after curvet, terse twirls, deep side-steps, a rolling, horizontal descent of his staff, and he lays it flat on the grainy ground. Hips sway without losing a beat, conducting pivots for momentum to flow ceaseless, shoulders shrugging and arms pumping as hands pound on imaginary drums. Onslaught of rushing colors blur his sight, stray stone particles stinging his eyes, sweat sticking to his thick robes as seconds drag their feet and become minutes.

Pyreflies trickle forth from their respective bodies at one point, revolving around and dancing to the whims of this earnest youth. Cloy in ascent, soft in sentiment, the ghostly insects are a sight for sore eyes. Baralai's voice breaks free from its mute confinement, a wordless hymn resounding in his throat, lips parted to sing exalted notes of a cryptic requiem.

 _"Ieyui Nobomenu ~ Renmiri Yojuyogo ~ Hasatekanae ~ Kutamae..."_

Gippal weeps, this Sending the first he has ever laid one eye on. His open show of grief puts Paine to shame as she stifles her tearful indifference behind trembling hands, and Nooj whose lone tear outshines the North star.

Souls are in need of rest, guidance, an eternity of dreaming. Loved ones are in want of peace, reassurance, a lifetime of healing.

Baralai has the power to give, and so he delivers with all his soul.


	18. Choir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Fantasy Arc, part 2: The Final Summoning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics homage to a song: "Everything You Want" - Vertical Horizons.

  
**XVIII. Choir**

 _{You listen and wait for it; an echo of angels that won't return}_

The Fahrenheit has become the Summoner's airborne stage, the starlit dusk her mural of mourning, while the whole world projects their voices as one absolute symphony. The Fayth perform a gracious, grievous musical as Aeons, the materialization of dreams for Yuna's Final Sending.

Daemon of the Heavens. Mad Dog of Hellfire. Mecha-Unicorn of Electricity. Maiden of Ice and Destruction. King of Dragons. Monarch of the Underworld. Nocturne Samurai. Beloved Triplets of Mother Nature.

The Tragic Hero, the Heroine's love interest and Child of the Sun, sacrifices his life to bring a dream into fruition, the eternal sleep that has eluded the Arch Villain for a millennium. Beasts of lore heed their calling, finally free from their Utopian prison, returning to the Farplane, the planet's core their Origin. Baralai climbs atop the highest tree in Macalania Woods, exposed to the evening chill and haunting requiem, joining the audience of Spira in witnessing the long-awaited climax, The Fall of Sin.

 _Pray to Yu Yevon ~ Dream, Fayth ~ Forever and ever ~ Grant us prosperity_

The curtains fall as the zenith soon becomes dark, and the onlookers anticipate a new dawn, the first Golden Age to last a lifetime.


	19. Tryst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Ending Arc, part 4: Yuna and Baralai begin a romantic relationship.

  
**XIX. Tryst**

 _{What is love without taking risks, mute expression}_

The two stare at each other, tongue-tied and nervous on their first date.

His long bangs are swept away from his face and fastened by sepia sunglasses, minus his trademark headband. An unzipped, mahogany parka, skin-tight white undershirt, and navy blue slacks replace his usual formal attire; an attractive ensemble revealing a muscled physique which pleases and surprises Yuna, for his flamboyant robes left much for the imagination. Gippal must have ransacked his wardrobe (Yevon bless him), not unlike a certain cousin of hers.

To accommodate the warm day, a white blouse clings to her torso, folded collar low enough to flaunt her silver pendant, orchid scarf hanging loose on her hips, held in place by a twisted knot, complementing the frilly, rose-colored petticoat breezing her knees. Flowery hair-clips restrain wild tresses on both temples, accentuating the cute crinkles in her wavering eyes. The slight heel of her calfskin sandal clicks the pavement due to ferocious butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

Baralai clears his throat, this action a guise to his awkward laugh, and offers his arm with a bashful smile. She takes it, equally as bashful, linking hands with him. They both take the lead side by side as they disappear in the crowded marketplace of the Moonflow.


	20. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Fantasy/New World Arc, part 3: Yuna has saved Spira once again.

  
**XX. History**

_{Thrive on mistakes, weaknesses exist to serve maturity}_

Her Guardians stand at attention, fulfilling the utmost honor – sentries to Yuna, Spira's beloved slayer of Sin, and her fragility and heartbroken spirit as she faces the crowd occupying the entire Luca stadium.

"Everyone has lost something precious. Everyone here has lost homes, dreams, and friends. Everybody, now, Sin is finally dead. Now, Spira is ours again. Working together, we can make new homes for ourselves, and new dreams. Although I know the journey will be hard, we have lots of time. Together, we will rebuild Spira. The road is ahead of us, so let's start out today."

Rikku, Al Bhed Princess; Lulu, Mistress of Black Magic; Wakka, World Champion of Blitzball; Kimahri, Hornless Lion of the Mountain; two individuals are absent, their permanent lack of presence jarring in her new life, a life she wasn’t supposed to claim back. Auron, Living Legend, and –

"The people and the friends that we have lost" – _and the dreams that have faded_ – "Never forget them."

Tidus, Dream Zanarkand Ace.

~

  
Two years later, the Eternal Calm has been preserved. Same place, same time of day, the crowds are cheering, the confetti flies, a melting pot of sleeping hostilities, the public display of camaraderie between rivaling faction leaders a cause for curiosity.

"Once my friends and I dreamed of flying. We would sail a ship with me as its captain. In time, I became that captain. I found a new ship with new friends. My ship was the Youth League." – "Others chose a different captain. Their boat was New Yevon." – "You know, I realize I'm like a lot of you people. We want a captain and we want a ship to ride, but more important than that, really, we all want to ride together."

Baralai braves the spotlight once again, to speak words of hope and wisdom to the people, this very same ideal the hardest thing he will ever have to accept. For a better tomorrow, a brighter future, a future without hate and vengeance.  


"There's some things you can't do alone. But they become easy with friends beside you."

Nooj, role model, brother figure, and war veteran. Gippal, best friend, soul sibling, and clown extraordinaire. Individuals Baralai wouldn't mind governing the world together. And let's not forget – "We all owe thanks to a very special lady."

Yuna, Peacemaker of the Century.


	21. Familiarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Story Arc, part 1: Yuna mistakes a familiar face for a lost friend.

  
**XXI. Familiarity**

 _{Déjà vu's bitter goodbye, Destiny is right around the corner}_

Yuna dashes the bustling streets of Luca, panting, bumping into unsuspecting people and apologizing, searching fervent in the vicinity for any sign of Tidus. She had seen him in the crowd while delivering her speech, his dirty blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, a white hoodie, short-sleeved shirt, and shorts – ‘He _was there._ He _was in the audience!’_

The docks are relatively empty; children play tag and race each other, waving the strings of their balloons, shrieking in laughter, and passengers are trickling onboard their ships, preparing for embarkment. As the moving crowd disperses, so does her energy and wishful thinking. Yuna stops to catch her breath, ashamed of her silly, desperate delusions, disheartened by her hapless efforts. _‘Tidus can't be gone, just like that. He can't be. Not after all that he's done for Spira... not after all that has happened between us...’_

"Let's go, Mother. The boat is about to leave." Her ears perk at the familiar, nostalgic term of endearment, a name Yuna neglected to use since her mother's passing. Lifting her crestfallen eyes, Yuna spots a teenaged boy escort his parent in direction to their vessel. Tilt of the face, a distant smile – _‘it's him!’_ – she gasps in divine elation and sprints to touch him, grab his shoulder, jerk him around to acknowledge her. Consternation and disappointment drowns her ecstatic voice – _‘this boy is not Tidus’_ – as incredible dejection suffocates her heart.

Yellow sunlight gleams from his platinum hair, highlighting it gold in contrast to Tidus's bleached style; how his long bangs frame his olive face, the skin too dark to be tan. His eyes don't hold the ocean, but the liquid color of burnt wood. His shirt not bright yellow, but a moody blend of colors, such as violet, teal, orange, and indigo, resembling Bevelle's fashion for adolescents. Trousers are a mahogany violet, absent of black leather and uneven length. Not a complete stranger, however; a friend of an enemy at worst, her guardian angel at best.

A young man in service to Seymour Guado (until the point of his untimely death), who offered her counsel and companionship in that short, dismal period of her captivity at the hands of her villainous husband. He infiltrated the wedding as a servant, blessed Yuna with her confiscated staff, and prayed for her success and ultimate escape. Another individual who made a huge impact, albeit inconspicuous, on Spira's fate.

"Hello, Lady Yuna. We meet again."


	22. Blessings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Ending Arc, part 5: Holy matrimony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by _Sorrow has a Human Heart's_ two-shot  Written in the Stars.

  
**XXII. Blessings**

 _{Embrace the stars and kiss the moon, God bless love}_

A cloaked figure treads the interchanging Farplane scenery, pleated burgundy and navy blue robes fluttering in the tropical breeze and pungent perfume, footsteps clacking on cold cobblestone and creaking wood, feet shuffling across melting snow and drying grass, hands sliding pass a weeping willow's tendrils and hieroglyphic walls, eyes overlooking the superficial seasons and superfluous connections, until he reaches the springtime of youth at last.

Braska steps pass the silver lining, exiting the haven for the departed and into a man's reminiscing unconsciousness. A preteen boy throws rocks at the ocean, misshapen stone frogs hopping on liquid glass as grumpy splashes ripple the mirror's sky. Stalactite sadness, the living soul suffers in solo solitude, separated from his favorite playmate, and soon collapses from the stress. Once the ripples settle, a silhouette of a growing woman smiles in the lucidity. _‘Yuna...’_

Moved by his attachment, Braska approaches the crying acolyte, stooping to pull the boy on his feet, paternal concern cradling his lanky arms. The High Summoner coaxes eye contact, calm curiosity smoothing the moist storm on the boy's cherubic visage. "L-Lord Braska..."

"You will return to someone very precious to us, very, very soon. Take care of her for me, and I guarantee she'll take care of you. Cease dreaming on the brink of suicide, child. Please, don't make this your time."

Warm light filters through Baralai's fluttering eyes, forcing him to rise from the temple's hearth and face the statue who watched over him in his sleep. Freshly lit torches and cloy incense permeates the dark dawn as priests and nuns alike greet the Praetor, grooming the temple for a most momentous day.

Holy matrimony between the High Summoner and Praetor of New Yevon.


	23. Virginity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crimson Squad/Another Story Arc, part 2: They undergo metamorphosis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) "Take your time... and shoot."

  
**XXIII. Virginity**

 _{First shoot, then ask the questions, you only have one chance}_

Baralai can feel his eardrums bleed as guerilla gunshots and pointless explosions drill in the distance. Hands tense and soft on the handle, heart heavy with hesitation and holy irony, mind swamped in morbid admonishments; this puts his religious tolerance to the test. His ability to wield a rifle – _‘machina of all things!’ –_ with heartless proficiency hinges on his resolve. It requires costly sacrifice.

A human hand accompanied by its machina-prosthetic counterpart takes responsibility to teach an innocent soldier how to get his hands dirty. Baralai glances at his teammate, wary and pleading, exercising patience long enough for this warmonger to grant brisk guidance. To hold the bottom of the barrel using a strong grip, right hand firm on the bulky frame to control kick-back, finger poised on the semi-automatic trigger, _never point the gun at something it can hurt_ , and keep both eyes, not one, trained on the aligned groove.

"Take aim. Shoot."

Baralai murdered his childhood that day, drill-shot bullets having dissolved through hot dunes and white noise.  


~

  
Yuna can feel her nerves skyrocket as gunpowder residue and gaseous heat assuages her trembling hands. Arms sore and straight, heart light with excitement and true curiosity, soul suffering in lovesick misgivings; her emotions are riding on a roller-coaster. Her potential in wielding a pistol – _‘my Al Bhed birthright’_ – with naïve distrust relies on her desire. It requires simple sacrifice.

Fingerless gloves cradle her fists followed by a broad naked torso leaning on her backside, struggling to instruct his cousin in fluent English, urging her with flustered fingers and a heavy accent on handling her new weapon of choice. Twin Tiny Bees a gift to embellish their blood bond as family. To push her right fist out and pull her left hand in, cock the hammer of the gun, calculate the visual math on the hole-littered cardboard target, _don't rush to shoot fast, practice makes perfect,_ and keep two eyes wide open and focused on the prize.

"Aim. Dyga ouin desa… yht cruud.(1) Shoot."

Yuna hunted her new lease on life that day, trigger-happy bullets in pursuit of fading dreams and a lost love.

  



	24. Exotic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crimson Squad Arc, part 3: Paine and Lulu, the sisterly influences.

**XXIV. Exotic**

 _{Red, the color of passion, blood, a setting sun}_

Hair short and a masculine silver, square-shaped face drawn, almond red eyes glaring, pink glossed mouth pursed, black leather ensemble and high-heeled boots daring – this attractive woman proves dangerous to his smitten heart. Why else would Baralai experience palpitations whenever the recorder stands within mute proximity, or a momentary fever befalls him in the heat of battle whenever she watches him, _the team_ , with sphere in hand? Blunt words are lethal bullets to his feelings, brutal honesty a dark dictator to his thoughts, deceitful timidity a tough girl to his empathy.

"That's not gonna work on me, buster. Gippal already beat you to it." And his first attempt in wooing a female; the biggest mistake of his love life. When Baralai frowns, speaking up in his own defense and proving a point, saying no more afterwards, Paine smirks, impressed by his testicular strength. "Well, since it's you... I'll make an exception. Here. Clean off the sand on this one. It's obscuring the lens."

Baralai smiles, pleased to be considered useful and important to someone who once disregarded his existence.

~

  
Hair a plum brown, long braids dangling from a complex bun, eyeliner highlighting twin rubies, mouth a scowling orchid, low-cut black dress interlaced with belts unique and bodacious – this scary woman appeals to her curious mind. Why else would Yuna witness aggressive boys flee whenever in range of the Black Mage's death glare, or feral fiends be quelled by the force of her overprotective wrath and elemental fury? Stern attitude a strong Guardian to her safety, short fuse an intelligent doubt to her devotion, taciturn love a mother hen to her compassion.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Yuna? There is no turning back." And her confession to the sexy, big sister type; suicide mission of a lifetime. When Yuna smiles, affirming her selfless decision and swearing an oath, pleading without stop, Lulu frowns, saddened by her reckless resolve. "I do hope you aren't expecting me not to join you. We'll set out the first morning of your new summon."

Yuna cries, disappointed she can do nothing more for her friends after she will have to throw her life away.


	25. Lifeline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World/Final Fantasy Arc, part 4: Best friends. Always there in times of dire need.

  
**XXV. Lifeline**

_{Live in shadow, follow the light, sin sleeps in our souls}_

Opposite forces collide, an explosion, a flying Praetor, a fiery crimson flower unfolding within the phantasmal darkness and a possessed man under the mercy of inertia. He skids, his feet skipping step by step until he teeters over the edge. Panic creases his face, reaching out to his Al Bhed counterpart, a desperate plight piercing through the obscure insanity in his dark brown eyes.

Gippal's mind keeps telling him, _'this is not Baralai – this is not Baralai – he is only trying to fool you – who cares if he dies'_ – and that's when he snaps.

"Baralai!" In no time at all, Gippal abandons the bazooka responsible for harming his friend and lunges with all his might to close the distance. Digging his heels deep in dry soil, frantic fingers snatch at outstretched ones, grip strong and bone-cracking, straining his muscles to _heave –_

_'Man, is it just me, or did B'man gain a few pounds?'_

– vowing never to let go.

~

Pandemonium ensues, an ambush by sea, tumbling passengers, a liquid turquoise blanket rippling below the temperamental atmosphere and a fledgling Summoner under the influence of gravity. She trips, flying off her feet before a helping hand breaks her fall. Fright flees on sight, smiling serious at her savior, a chaste trust stressing the sharp purity in her bright blue-green eyes.

Tidus's heart keeps beating nonstop, _'don't let go, Yuna – don't let go – you don't have to worry – I'll save you'_ – and that's when the ship lurches.

Without warning, Yuna flings to the other side and Tidus squeezes one hand on the rope support tighter, pulling with his entire strength to stay onboard. Planting his soles fast on wet wood, slippery hands clutch each other, hold firm and skin-numbing, laboring his arm to _lift –_

_'Damn, I can't get a break, why won't this nightmare end?'_

– wishing forever to wake up.


	26. Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Ending, part 6: Sexual consummation between a holy savior and a fallen man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scraps from an unfinished lemon became an M-rated vignette. Enjoy.

  
**XXVI. Passion**

 _{Love-making is like drawing breath, you need it to survive}_

Limbs twist and tangle in the soon-to-be stained bed sheet, chests heaving and hugging each other's sweaty skin, arousal pulsing in sync to their staccato heartbeats. Hot and heavy gasps permeate the locked bed chamber as the mattress groans and sinks to their consistent moaning and rocking. Incense candles emit the cloy aroma of rosemary, soothing to the risque nerves, bathing the couple in its shady, dim glow, embers flickering at the weak waves of gravity rippling the humid air.

Too soon, Baralai withdraws his fingers and Yuna wonders, collapsing back into the bed, disoriented and upset, at the hasty, undressing noises after his abrupt stop - and restless hands lift her limp legs, adjusting them in such a way where she becomes impatient to receive what he attempts to do.

Swelled muscle tears through virgin skin without warning. Sting. Slight, prickly, and quite annoying. Yuna cringes at the minuscule pain, surprised at the soft shock, sensing hot liquid on her thigh, and immediately becomes engulfed in piercing pleasure, overwhelmed by the force of his thrusts, sudden, deep, fast-paced, sporadic — all sense of gentility abandoned, desperate for fulfillment, release, and oddly, Yuna doesn't dislike it.

Her vision white-hot, blurry with lust-induced tears as hands stroke his torso in random spasms. White light fizzles on her fingertips without conscious thought, creating and stealing scratch marks on his skin, sensing the negative energy seep pass his flesh, invisible static on flushed skin, recoiling at her healing touch. Eyes are closed to relish the perverse sensations in darkness, lips parted, breaths mingling, tongues meeting halfway, teasing at first, slow and soft, mindless as their continuous thrusts, until picking up the pace.

Legs clamp his waist, impatient of his climax while dissatisfaction throbs inside wet walls, muscles enduring delicious repetition. Ardor so intense, lungs burn at the lack of oxygen, whimpers resonating in echoes of frustration. Anxiety spurns his release, self-resentment, shame, worry, guilt, a myriad of emotions churning in his psyche, never permanently quelled and Baralai begins to tire – of pushing, of pulling, of hoping and being disappointed, losing himself within a smooth and monotonous rhythm of moist, tight, delightful friction.

Flames shrivel and swell in slower transitions until he pauses to rest and catch his breath, tightening his arms around her slender figure, her swollen, soft breasts pillowing his head. Yuna moderates her harsh breathing with great difficulty, disgruntled and confused by his pause, yet compassion overrides her haywire hormones once teardrops spill on her chest.

He still blames himself for existing, for being weak, for keeping secrets and creating more, for hurting people, too many people, for acting the puppet and almost causing another apocalypse; Baralai blames himself the most, more than anyone dares to admit. Still not used to it, will never get used to it, the ridiculous sensitivity to the slightest touch, how forgiveness embraces him in the form of arms, how kindness cradles his head as hands, and love kisses his scalp like lips. Tender, loving care a woman should have for her man. Treatment Baralai believes he doesn't deserve.

Heartbeats reverberate beneath his cheek, reminding him of his own — _‘I'm still human, I'm still alive, she saved me, and she is mine’_ — the last shred of humanity Baralai has left.


	27. Banner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crimson Squad Arc, part 4: The meaning behind Baralai's uniform attire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the symbolism of colors.

  
**XXVII. Banner**

 _{Paint a myth using every color of the rainbow}_

Stripped to the waist, Baralai shrugs on his pastel tunic and ties the orange sash around the waistband of his pants, adjusting the low neckline. He folds his previous clothes and places them beside his makeshift bed, before lifting his green coat with great care and slipping his arms into the heavy sleeves. Heavy with the weight of newfound maturity. Heavy with the burden of responsibility on still-young shoulders. Fastening a red chord through the rings of his high collar, he smooths his hands over orange patterns and Yevon symbols to wipe away the wrinkles in the fine fabric. Baralai soon finishes by adorning a clean blue headband, standing tall, undergoing mental preparation. What Baralai wears now for the ceremony represents the very fabric of his ideals, his absolute devotion to Yevon.

Green symbolizes resurrection and immortality, the salvaging of the soul and the preservation of its memory. It represents Fate, both positive and negative, and contains the powerful energies of Nature. Hope, longevity, and vitality. Red associates with all the basic needs of survival, all those things that give us security, our willpower to persevere in a spiral of death. A morbid symbol of courage and sacrifice, of strong emotions, of love, hate, guilt, and sin alike, and ultimate mourning. Blue allows repentance, for the person to become a compass for wayward ghosts, to remind them of their lost lives, to guide them back 'home.' Orange raises the spirits and invigorates the observers, symbolizing energy and fire, how anyone and everyone each hold a candle to make a difference in life, so long as you have the strength to believe.

"This is what it means to be a Summoner." He whispers to the person recording this private ritual, Paine and her ignorance, questions concerning her skepticism towards Yevon, of its "fanatic" followers and "suicidal" Summoners.

Somber-faced and willing to face the consequences of others, the acolyte exits the tent with an aching heart, ready to perform the Sending.


	28. Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Fantasy/Crimson Squad Arc, part 5: Friends journey together alongside their hopes and dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics homage to a song: "Hallucinations" - Angels & Airwaves.
> 
> Dialogue are direct lines from the song: "EternuS" - Sanxion7.

  
**XXVIII. Wish**

 _{The mind's eye, silly dreams and hallucinations}_

"Can I ask you something?"

They've been walking all day down Mi'ihen Highroad on a hot afternoon and Tidus finds _another_ question to entertain himself, this time directed towards Auron, delighted to be reunited once again.

~

"If you could have one dream... What would it be?"

Nooj stares, captivated by his innocence, the modest smile and empathic eyes; the other two fall silent, timid to acknowledge the candid, endearing boy. Baralai shrugs, embarrassed. The Al Bhed grins and throws a friendly punch to bruise his arm. Paine chuckles and shoves his shoulder in a playful manner. Baralai senses the man's alienation, the only one tight-lipped and stubborn to open up.

~

Auron scoffs, unperturbed by this silly inquiry. The blonde pouts, kicking dust to coat his dark pants, much to Wakka's horror, Lulu's annoyance, and Yuna's amusement. Kimahri snatches his hood, yanking it, his preferred method of reprimanding the teen.

~

Baralai can imagine Nooj becoming a Crusader for a selfless cause, to save lives by his own hands. Yet to be robbed of the very faithful instruments of his true strength, handicapped, his dream incomplete. Crackling cinders glow in the reflection of his glasses, words hollow.

~

"To fly away..." Tense silence. Intense curiosity. "On the wings of time..." The warrior halts, sunglasses glaring as harsh as the sun, searching for something in the distance, the sky, the world beyond. Yuna can sense his worn heart bleed into an ocean so blue, as if calling out to his loved ones, as if heartbroken to be apart from them. "And then I can be with everyone..."

~

What Baralai would give to rewind the past and rewrite the future, abuse his limitations in exchange for others' happiness, fighting, smiling, sleeping until the sun finally rises.

~

The Summoner dreams of shooting stars raining down on a broken Zanarkand.


	29. Idol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 5: Yuna takes Kimahri's words to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes in italics play homage for two songs: "Servants of the Mountain" - Final Fantasy X OST, "White Skies (Club Remix)" - bLiNd.

  
**XXIX. Idol**

_{Servants of the mountain, white skies}_

"Long live Kimahri! Long live Kimahri!"

Stone-faced. Stone-hearted. Still as a statue.

Ronso young and old and in their prime, and an Al Bhed adolescent cheer the Elder's name. Yuna watches the celebration beside Paine, contemplating, heart grieving for not only her first love, but her constant companion; his presence she took for granted - former Guardian, now a leader unable to leave the mountains.

"'Better than looking back on things lost,' he said..."


	30. Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 6: In the Farplane, a final battle wages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics belong to two songs: "Point of No Return" - Immediate Music, "How to Save a Life" - The Fray.
> 
> I borrowed the _Two minutes and forty-one seconds_ motif from ["Another Story"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rh_Z8efB_nE).

  
**XXX. Chase**

_{Point of no return, save a life, live free or die hard}_

Two years, a free Spira. Summoners are aimless. Innocents are no longer homeless. Wanderlust sweeps the land. Dreams decline, promises fulfill, and goals realize. Truths rob the hopeful, lies die by the dozens, friendships rebuild cities, loves conceive children. Life moves on, death stays for life. Spiral.

Two years the Eternal Calm lasts; two minutes and forty-one seconds for it to fall. Two minutes and forty-one seconds Yuna holds her breath and thinks about him. Two minutes and forty-one seconds every time she cleaves demon hearts with silver bullets, every time a part of herself dies all over again. Two minutes and forty-one seconds Yuna clears another nautical mile, she crosses another bridge, she bridges another gap, she plays another tune, she dodges another bullet. Two minutes and forty-one seconds Yuna runs to close the distance.

Time passes in the Farplane. In the Farplane, a friend resides, a friend kept prisoner. What's more important, saving a life not yet lost or finding the truth behind death? Two minutes and forty-one seconds music echoes throughout oblivion, fingers pounding away at the keys, hearts pounding away in panic. Two minutes and forty-one seconds Yuna makes a decision.

Two minutes and forty-one seconds teamwork topples a weapon of mass destruction. Two minutes and forty-one seconds lovesick fools battle to the death. Two minutes and forty-one seconds star-crossed lovers are united after a millennium of bloodshed and cold air. Two years Yuna chases Tidus into darkness. Two minutes and forty-one seconds Yuna frees Baralai.

Out of the shadows, into the light.


	31. Hyprocrite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 7: Never judge a book by its cover.

  
**XXXI. Hypocrite**

_{Evil has many forms, many faces, as does kindness}_

_"A girly man like that doesn't stand a chance without his escort."_

Handsome politician by trade; a full-time silver-tongue. _"Careful. He's much stronger than he looks."_ An ex-soldier who's not afraid to kill.

Hands meant to hold pens and important papers can break bones and brandish guns. Eyes meant to charm friends and disarm strangers can freeze bodies and stop hearts. Words meant to exude confidence and emphasize humility can weave perilous spells and swear impossible pledges. _"You need not interfere. Leave Vegnagun to me."_ Cold-hearted, calculated, and compassionate.

_"What are you planning to do?"_

Baralai fights the Gullwings to protect them, to prevent Yuna from meeting her Maker. _"The only thing I can do..."_


	32. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crimson Squad/Final Fantasy Arc, part 6: Blood, sweat, and tears are shed for those soon to be dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics homage to a song: "Undone" - FFH.

**XXXII. Blood**

 _{We all want love, we all want honor, pay the price}_

"Nice footwork out there, ballerina."

Baralai murmurs his thanks, still in that pensive daze of his since yesterday. The early bird sits atop a hill near their campsite, watching whirlwinds mimic his earlier performance. Gippal approaches, stretching his arms, quelling goose-bumps and grogginess from his limbs.

"So that's what you Yevonites do, huh? Dance for the rain to fall?" No response. "Yep. Good stuff. Dancing for the dead, making people happy…" Gippal rambles in thoughtful fragments, and gives up soon after, yet too anxious of the silence to remain quiet for long.

He seats himself on the sand and plops his head on Baralai's lap, gazing up at the starry sky and missing sun, not yet bright and hot and life-threatening. Awkward to be in intimate proximity of a Yevonite, and uncertain whether or not he can trust his teammate enough to share insecurity — _‘oh, what the heck.’_ "…but I don't see no Yevonite dance for dead Al Bhed."

His breath catches in his throat when solid warmth touches his face, paternal care stroking his cheek, all the while peering at his blurry solemn smile. Baralai doesn't bother to hide the truth, sugarcoat details, or defend Spira's racial, abusive actions. Only offers what Gippal wants to hear.

"I know."

~

  
"You gotta meet my pops one of these days, Yunie."

Yuna neglects to correct her, having already met him, mind stuck between counting the days and her romantic, scarce trysts with Tidus, watching snowflakes dance inside tumultuous drafts. Rikku hops on one foot, then the other, generating body heat through spontaneous energy.

"He's your uncle, you know, and he _won't stop talking_ about you! Even though you've never met him, he loves you to death. You're practically family!" Rikku babbles with loud gestures, and continues without pause, her lungs refusing to back down against need for oxygen.

She twirls with arms outstretched and inhales the frosty mist, grabbing at low clouds and a waning moon, still very slim and dim and gravity-defying. Reluctant to break routine from providing positivity, and in turmoil of exposing blatant feelings already expressed — _‘oh, why can't you see?’_ "...and he wishes you happiness in the bottom of his heart."

She swallows a lump in her throat when cold sympathy wraps her fingers, maternal love squeezing her hand, while glaring sleet tears at a makeshift grave. Yuna doesn't bother to consider an alternative, nor stops to think about her feelings. Only repeats what Rikku can’t bear.

"I know."


	33. Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 8: Baralai plunges into darkness.

  
**XXXIII. Light**

_{Starlight, star bright, love shines the brightest}_

_‘It's so dark…’_

Falling up, walking on water, swimming in space, dreaming awake, Baralai has no control over his own body. Rainbow fireflies float in front of glazed eyelids, bleak light fades before reaching his soul, his emotions otherwise sapped by spiritual leeches in sheep's clothing. Muscles move without monitor, thoughts speak against truth, voices empower another's will.

Baralai and this monstrosity of a djinni cannot be anymore similar. Justice; murder in disguise. Hate; love by betrayal. Closure; road to Hell paved with good intentions. Yet, an epiphany quells his reason for vengeance, _‘Nooj… wasn't Nooj,’_ but not his, _‘His name...? Shuyin... yes. Indeed, it is Shuyin.’_ Black emotions are set aflame once again with ire like oil to a single flare of fire, swelling in veins symbolic of his archaic enemy, their modern leader.

"Can you hear me?"

An unfamiliar voice - _‘his voice?’_ – attracts that of another, "Yes," – _‘my voice?’_ – one possessing saving grace, an effeminate force. Feelings pour into Baralai's submissive heart, a cavity yet to be touched until invaded by a foreign, pleasant sensation. Positivity churning inside chaotic energy, _‘What is this emotion?’_

"Ah, you _can_ hear me." Relief. Jubilance. Love.

"I can’t see you. Where are you?" _‘Who is this I feel so strongly for?’_

"Right here!" Anticipation. Surprise. Light.

_‘…Lenne, no, Yuna…’_


	34. Impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 9: Baralai reminds Yuna of her father.

  
**XXXIV. Impression**

_{Never judge a book by its cover, seeing is believing}_

Yuna races against time to save a friend. Her memories with Baralai are few —

Polite smile; _"Greetings."_

Solemn empathy; _"The world is changing..."_

Elegant fondness; _"Have this as a token of my friendship."_

— yet intimate knowledge surpasses her expectations.

In the Crimson Spheres, Yuna sees a different side of him, a dynamic young man, a team player, a very sensitive soul. Baralai makes jokes when he's about to die. Baralai proves to be open-minded to change and steadfast in his broken beliefs. Baralai doesn't hesitate to take prudent risks, to seek support in corruption to fulfill his own agendas. Beyond the heartfelt salute, the laughter, the blood-curdling screams, Yuna sees a human being, not a shepherd who sows the seeds of Yevon.

Humble, compassionate, dignified, a man like her father. _“Forgive me.”_

Remorse gleamed on the machina pistol then, and Yuna had beat Baralai to the trigger. Never meant to kill, only protect, and she wonders if that ever re-opened the wound of his betrayal.

_'I will follow my heart, father. Please, watch over me.'_


	35. Discordance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 10: Shuyin, the musically-inclined psychopath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending of the first sentence on the second paragraph inspired by a line in this poem: "The Day is a Poem" - Robinson Jeffers.
> 
> See if you can find it. ;3

  
**XXXV. Discordance**

_{See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil}_

"Sol. Mi*! Re*..."

Baralai stalks the mystical savanna, swinging his staff like a long, dangerous baton, conducting chaos and lunacy, singing destruction and laughing at it. Ensemble of pyre flies swirl and sway, rapt and confused, resonating notes in synchronicity to a passive harp. Hostile, futile resistance fumes inside its prison of a woodwind resonator. Repercussions from the past strike the chords in his heart, violin strings scraping emotions until insanity screeches within shaken thoughts, brass begging for mercy, whispering to his solo puppeteer, the deaf concertmaster.

Pleas die fast following the fleeting tune of a helpless flute, and hope chimes soft and resilient in the face of horror.

"Do*... Ti... La... Sol... Fa... Mi... Fa, **Sol** , _Do..._ "


	36. Impetus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Story, part 3: Baralai and Zaon duel to the death.

  
**XXXVI. Impetus**

 _{Warrior of antiquity, love lives on}_

**_“I must protect my beloved... I must protect... I... must...”_   
**

A shadow of his former glory, armor golden in its splendor, and Cadabolg's shade in hand, there stands the Paragon of living nightmares. Legend speaks of Lord Zaon's passion surpassing that of the sun; now a demon whispers in his right ear, using selfless wiles to fester the flames of loyalty and resolve. Obsession in full bloom, and an undying love.

Warrior monks flock to surround the apparition, the last two squads, the fate of the previous thirteen unknown and lost under the mercy of winding, fiend-infested Undergrounds. Baralai bares his fangs and prepares to pounce, undaunted by Lord Zaon's enlightened form.

"I have people to protect as well. Please, forgive me, Lord Zaon."

Sparks ignite when they cross steel for claw.


	37. Turmoil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Story Arc, part 4: Hell hath no fury like a maiden scorned.

  
**XXXVII. Turmoil**

 _{Bygones be bygones, flirt with death}_

Baralai's grip on the pistol slackens. "Lady Yunalesca…?"

First Summoner of the millennium, daughter of Yevon; her soul has taken refuge below Bevelle, alongside her Guardian. The image of an amorous embrace ripples, eyes glower, bare feet tread on cold air, and numerous pyreflies highlight bloodlust. Lord Zaon disappears, dismissed by his lady; warrior monks charge, petrified on sight; survivors waver, slashed to shreds. Baralai parries the Basilisk's snapping pincers, he avoids meeting its stony glare, and he traps its elongated neck inside a steel ring, pulling his staff to subdue the thrashing beast.

Cataracts of lethargic warmth suddenly flood his body, disorienting him, putting warriors to sleep, streaming colors before his very eyes, vision blurry behind snippets of memories. Baralai glares, gritting his teeth, sluggish and defenseless. Forsaking the nightmare, Yunalesca advances, unhindered by bullets and flames. Arms outstretch, transparent hands touch his face, **_“You are a true warrior, with a brave heart... like my Lord Zaon...”_** and an ancient chill cripples his willpower.

Foreign sounds stifle his heartbeats, illusions deluge his rational thoughts, and Baralai collapses on his knees, clasping his staff to his chest, desperate. Pity embraces him, a Summoner's graces.

 **_“Poor creature… let me be your liberator…”_   
**

"Lord Baralai! Baralai, sir! Resist that fiend's seduction!"

"Please, do not… I… I will… stand my ground… and be strong…"

On the brink of death, the face of his savior emerges in his mind's eye. _'Lady Yuna…'_

A straggling pyrefly glows — _"I will stand my ground and be strong! I don't know when it will be, but someday I will conquer it. And I will do it without false hopes."_

— and Yunalesca lets him go.


	38. Pity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crimson Squad Arc, part 7: A priest spares pity for a death-seeker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics homage to a song: "Until We Bleed" - Andreas Kleerup feat. Lykke Li.

**XXXVIII. Pity**

 _{Love until we bleed, walk in another's shoes}_

"It's my life to throw away."

Baralai cannot believe what he just heard. What human being doesn't appreciate the value of their own life? Astonished, he gazes anew at his esteemed comrade, disappointed in his lackluster spirit, pitying his aimless soul.

 _Ex-Crusader. The Undying. Deathseeker._ What Paine said, it can't be true.

Unlike Baralai and Gippal calling for him to come back, Paine says nothing more, having said what she wanted to say, and possibly not everything her heart truly felt. Nooj pushes his teammates away by distance, leaving them hopeless and speechless in the dust. Their eyes sting in the blistering, sand-ridden winds, watching his back disappear behind shrapnel, dunes, and gunfire. _'I am his friend, even though he hasn't acknowledged me as such, and it's my job to reach out to him and show him the right path. If not me, who will?'_

In the end, it's his choice whether or not he wants to walk towards the light.


	39. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Ending Arc, part 7: Hot and heavy love.

**XXXIX. Heat**

 _{Old flames, second love, potential chemistry}_

Yuna steals glances while he's not looking, fascinated by his studious silence. Sitting cross-legged on warm grass and reading an unraveled scroll on his lap, Baralai's eyes squint beneath the sunlight, fixated on the complicated script. _'How can he not feel the heat? He's literally baking himself!'_

Baralai tears his attention away at the curious sound of her giggles, amused and enamored, teasing her with a smile. Momentary eye contact; Yuna stammers, self-conscious, averting her eyes, and he frowns, confused. When he returns to reading his scroll does Yuna partake to staring again. Eye candy basks in the tropical elements, exercising mind and patience for future Flare incantation spells.

She had asked to join him in excuse to be near him, performing mock meditation and admiring his handsome looks, pleased of his choice to vacation in Besaid. Yet Yuna desires more than simple pining from afar. She wants to hear his voice, to relish his scent, to touch him, to create more memories together, yet she lacks the nerve to ask outright.

"…would you like to read with me?" His invitation scatters her thoughts, lingering in the air, compelling her to take a seat beside him. Baralai grabs her hand, startling her, coaxing her fingers to trace the ink brushwork, stroke for sensuous stroke. "Heat reminds me of many things. The flames of a desert sun, of a blistering wind, of the torches lit between human beings during a night of marital love-making."

Feeling his hand on her cheek, Yuna gasps, blushing, overwhelmed by her intimate reminisces and imaginations. "Why do you hesitate to meet my eye?" Tongue-tied, she shakes her head. The subtle intensity of his gaze overwhelms her, euphoria blooming in her bosom. He leans in close, moving his hand to brush her bangs aside, whispering over the soft breeze. "How will we communicate when we need not words nor physical expressions?"

They spend the afternoon sun-baking, sharing hot kisses, and mapping their lust on each other's body.


	40. Assimilation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 11: Vicarious in first person.

  
**XL. Assimilation**

_{Osmosis of the senses, star-crossed feelings, hitsuzen}_

_'Whose feelings are these?'_

Nostalgia numbs her limbs, intimacy seduces her mind, guilt anchors her heart. A bittersweet embrace, until held at arm's length. Electric blue eyes, sun-kissed hair, a tender smile; a stranger wearing the same face as her true love. A foreign woman implores forgiveness in one lingering gaze; a lovelorn frown, earth brown hair, misty hazel irises. Sadness speaks through false telekinesis, yearning navigates the motions, empathy amplifies his submission.

_'Lenne's? Shuyin's?'_

Baralai holds her close again and Yuna complies, eye contact broken. _'Mine?'_

This man feels different, but she ignores it, discomfort drowning in unstable emotions and subtle possession. This woman looks familiar, and he remembers, logic fleeting beyond layers of disillusioned vigilance. Lonesome chimes and ancient whispers resonate from pyreflies that prowl and haunt the glen. One moment, for a millennium's worth of waiting.

Lost love sings, as they forget themselves in this music of the amnesiacs.


	41. Longevity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Ending Arc, part 8: Yuna and Baralai eat noodles together.

  
**XLI. Longevity**

 _{Oodles of fun, the way to a man's heart}_

Slurrrp. Slurrrp. Splatter, splatter.

A noodle flickers out of Yuna's mouth, and Baralai wipes his face with a lopsided smile. Seated on the rustic carpet inside her house, they share a large bowl of udon ramen together prepared by Wakka himself. Tense generosity suspected to be an excuse to supervise the Praetor's actions.

He also provided chopsticks, a foreign utensil that confounds the silverware-bred Baralai. Fingers fumble with the sticks, hustling for a good grip, efforts restless and focus futile. Yuna guides his hand in the motions, and she giggles every time the thick noodles slip through his hold. She grabs his thumb and pointer finger, positioning them properly.

"Here, you set this one like this... no, no... You messed it up again... hey, hold still... Am I going to have to feed you?" Baralai huffs, half frustrated and half amused.

"Might as well. I'm ashamed to admit I can't do this well..."

"Okay, if you insist... Open wide for the airship!" Yuna teases, tucking a handkerchief into his collar like a bib. He chuckles, embarrassed and bashful.

"I don't recall asking to be treated like a baby."

Yuna laughs harder. "But... but, you're acting like one."

Baralai manages to learn at one point or another, yet continues to act inept, fond of the feel of her hands holding his own as he enjoys his lady fussing over him like a newlywed wife.


	42. Scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Fantasy Arc, part 7: Seymour Guado's spy.

  
**XLII. Scar**

 _{Fact from fiction, legends and realities and lies}_

Baralai spies on a traveling Summoner and her motley company atop a cliff outside Macalania Woods.

His eyes sweep across kilometers of barren green and torn land through a spyglass telescope, spotting a man-made landmark beyond long-winded hills. A huge rift, Spira's battle scar upon Gandof's victory, the second High Summoner to earn his title posthumous. There once lived a man who brought down his iron fist, sealing Qactuars in stone beneath thunderous skies as punishment for torturing passers-by with their callous mischief.

Defeating Sin was not the only thing Summoners could do to help Spira, so says ancient history. _"Spira is a land of suffering and sorrow caught in a spiral of death,"_ his mentor told him time and time again.

Scars have stories nobody wants to tell, and death tends to be the common cure. ** _“It's my life to throw away.”_**

 _"Don't give up!"_

So why does his heart say otherwise?


	43. Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Fantasy Arc, part 8: On the eve of Yuna's execution, Seymour fulfills his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on an "only dialogue" prompt.

  
**XLIII. Trial**

 _{Fly on the wall, educate a series of guesses}_

"Lord Seymour, this cannot be right. We all know Lady Yuna has done nothing wrong."

"What nonsense are you spouting? Are you sure you are feeling alright, Baralai?"

"Please, do not feign ignorance, milord. Yevon is an illusion. Sin never truly dies. Summoners... they have sacrificed their lives for temporary Calms. I share Lady Yuna's viewpoints. She is only thinking of an alternative and that – that is considered a crime? She is your wife, and you're willing to accept her execution? You're touched in the head, milord. A little too much."

"I admire your honesty, but there are certain places where honesty is not necessary. Yuna has committed a crime, a murder of a Maester."

"E-Excuse my impertinence... However, Maester Seymour and Maester Yo Mika are... Unsent."

"You've heard and seen everything. I don't see the need to repeat myself."

"..."

"There is a slim possibility she may survive the Via Purifico. If it comes to that, we will have to execute her by our own hands. That includes Kinoc. He stands guard at the exit alongside elite warrior monks."

"..."

"I will turn a blind eye. Do as you wish."  


"..."

"If I were you, I'd leave before it is too late."


	44. Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Fantasy Arc, part 9: Murder, justice in disguise.

  
**XLIV. Error**

 _{Shooting in the dark, surpass expectations}_

There Maester Kinoc stands, giving commands to fortify the path and let none escape. He plans to kill Yuna and her Guardians. _'I have to stop him.'_

The warrior monks die quick and painless deaths, but that man, "How dare you!" he wants to save him for last. Baralai desires to see him _hurt_ , and savor his suffering.

With a single shot, he disarms him and the rifle clatters to the ground. Kinoc cradles his wrist, angered by the intrusion. He suddenly sways on his feet, overwhelmed by this invisible pressure. More magic pours into the spell and forces Kinoc onto his knees. Bolstering gravity from all sides, relentless pain assaults his internal organs. Baralai will not stop, no matter how much Kinoc screams, no matter how much it exhausts him, until that sinner cannot move, or breathe, or even _survive_. Baralai will crush everything for what he is worth. He is worth _nothing_ , and he will become nothing in death.

 _'Nothing will stop me from fulfilling this revenge.'_


	45. Litany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood Arc (Magic Meta), part 11: Another child lost to the sacred arts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The GBA game Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword inspired the title (item: Set's Litany) and Ninian the Dancer inspired this dancing scene.

  
**XLV. Litany**

_{A mother's love outweighs the universe}_

Baralai hops on snow, his strenuous footprints marking the memory, dashing down the slope until leather soles slide on frozen water. Frost and dead wind numbs his dimpled cheeks as he spreads his arms out wide, one foot uplifted, suspended in a daydream, gliding across the Macalania Lake on imaginary wings. His arms flail, his legs wobble, and then Baralai falls on his knees. Overtaken by the adrenaline rush, he stands once again and begins to dance.

"Mother! Mother! Look at me!" Laughter echoes as Baralai sashays to conceal his fatal slips, spinning on agile feet.

He stretches his arms to the sky and grasps at snowflakes, singing the Hymn of the Fayth, slowing his speed, wanting to emulate his mother's special dance. Calming his excitement, curling his arms in a loose embrace, before greeting his cold surroundings with open arms, his eyes droop in tender regard. This immature rendition warrants pyreflies to emerge from beneath his feet. Energy rests dormant and trapped within ruins submerged under floating water, and a faraway female soprano voice joins his whimsical lyrics.

"Ieyui... Nobomeno... Renmiri... Yojuyogo..."

"Baralai! Please! Stop dancing!" His mother shrieks, horrified of the implications. Sprinting to her bewildered child, Monika embraces Baralai, sobbing and desperate. "Please..."


	46. Character

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Story Arc, part 1: Beclem and his musings.

  
**XLVI. Character**

 _{Times have changed, forgive and forget}_

Straight ahead Beclem sees familiar taillights; a sea wave ripples in the breeze and Yevon's green banner sweeps the earth. Yuna and Baralai walk side-by-side into the lion's den, armed with instruments of death.

Wrapping a towel around his naked shoulders, Beclem wipes the sweat of recent exercise from his face and turns to exit the village. He treads the beaten path toward forestry and easy slopes to relieve the pleasant burn in his muscles. The hardened ex-Crusader had seen the High Summoner and Praetor approach Besaid temple, pausing to behold its lackluster brilliance upon discussion of purging the Cloisters. They intend to stifle random fiend outbreaks for good.

He had seen Yuna gesture her Tiny Bee gun, smile absentminded and awaiting his polite opinion. Baralai must have been forthcoming enough, exposing his own pistol and re-loading the clip with rune-laden lead. The old ways have changed; their open-minded and easy-going manner, which dismisses traditional blasphemy disgusts Beclem.

 _'Hypocrites, the whole lot of them.'_


	47. Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Fantasy Arc, part 10: Baralai witnesses the Ronso genocide by his master's hand.

**XLVII. Test**

 _{Play mind games, kill in cold blood}_

Before Baralai can bow in farewell, before he can depart for Bevelle, "There is something I must show you," Seymour clasps his wrist to stop him. His mission to pursue Yuna and her Guardians as far as the entrance to Mt. Gagazet has been complete. What task awaits him in the sacred land of snow and righteous trial?

"Remember this, Baralai. What I do, I do to enlighten you."

Baralai prays. He prays to die. He prays to live blind, to live deaf, forever mute. Carnage paints the mountain in red, composes the orchestra of whimsical manslaughter. Bile burns in his tight throat. Pupils dilate, tears dribble, horror-struck. Adrenaline leeches his sanity, drawing strength just to stand, forcing him to watch senseless, feral violence until catatonia breaches every corner of resistance.

"What is trust? Weakness. Never make the mistake of trusting me again."

 _'Why dye my heart black when you intend to destroy the world?'_


	48. Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Fantasy Arc, part 11: The best man behind the scenes.

**XLVIII. Bond**

 _{Hell and matrimony, through sickness and in health, Fate}_

"Will you be my Guardian?" Yuna requests on their way arm-in-arm to the Palace of St. Bevelle. "When I somehow escape and reunite with my friends–"

"No." Her name-mysterious companion masquerades as a groomsman; a ceremonial blue helmet and white veil conceals the upper half of his face, yet his feet tread unhindered by limited sight. "The pilgrimage means everything to you, and the first thing I will do as your Guardian is to take that away from you. I can't do that, and I don't have the strength to watch you persevere, only to martyr yourself to Sin. I'm sorry."

Her hand on his arm, it clenches tight, confessing, "It is for the good of Spira," as if her duty warrants a reason.

"And I care about you, more than the people of Spira themselves." She keeps quiet, resigning from this argument. He halts in his stride, relaying his stubborn concern through pseudo eye contact. Yuna likewise glares in liquid rage and grief, shoulders touching, postures tense with rigid dignity. His unreasonable selfishness and unnecessary kindness makes her feel guilty, a hindrance to her goal.

They soon resume their deliberate walk, her wedding ceremony with Doomsday their destination. Yuna dares not to look back once she lets go of his arm, because from this point on – everything rides on her resolve.

~

  
Seymour Guado, her malevolent groom, stands across from her, anticipation oppressing her willpower. Grand Maester Yo Mika stands present before them as the minister presiding over their holy union, sunken eyes vigilant and glassy. Her Guardians watch, skirmish-worn and helpless under the dangerous supervision of Maester Kinoc and his platoon of alert warrior monks. Clammy palms grip her bare shoulders a moment later, sharp nails pinching into her skin unlike those of tenderness not too long ago.

Yuna imagines _him_ and his gentle eyes and caring words, instead of Seymour's smug glare and cold smile. _"You won't be alone out there,"_ he had told her. He trusts her, he has faith in her, he believes Yuna will win, despite the dismal odds. He didn't know her, he had no reason to help, he was - still is - with Seymour, but he supports her against all odds.

Yuna prays for Lady Luck to bless her side, as this obligatory kiss seals her demise.


	49. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Fantasy/New World Arc, part 12: They learn to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics belong to Shakespeare, _Hamlet_.

  
**XLIX. Doubt**

_{To dream, or not to dream, don't look back}_

"Everyone has lost something precious."

Yuna delivers the Eternal Calm in one speech, her parting words in disguise as Spira's final High Summoner.

Standing in the crowd, hidden among the masses, Baralai gazes upon his holy savior. Freedom makes him a lost man now; without Yevon to hide behind, people have no reason to be kind anymore. Infantile independence eradicates traditional security, and hope pacifies his turmoil, paving the way for character to strive.

"The people and the friends that we have lost..." Her pause speaks volumes, and empathy compels him to reach out to her. "Never forget them."

 _'Maybe it's better this way...'_  


~

  
"It's better this way."

Yuna closes her eyes to will the illusion away, to pretend she can live without him.

 _‘You were with me the whole time, weren’t you? I kept thinking you might be, kept hoping... But, you know, I'm not worried anymore. You will always have a place in my heart. We'll always be connected.'_  


Waiting in the dark, listening for his whistle, Yuna sees her hero emerge in her mind's eye. Sadness recreates the beloved memory; with the future to look forward to, a miracle holds no water in reality. Delirious loyalty yields timid resilience, and anticipation of a new dawn enlightens her, instilling an inevitable sense of renewal.

"I love you." And Yuna walks away, smiling, fortitude strong in her eyes.


	50. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Ending Arc, part 9: Marital loyalty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Take a leap of faith" a direct quote from Christopher Nolan's film _Inception_.
> 
> Gift vignette honoring _Sirea the Beautiful Disaster's _engagement.__

  
**L. Love**

 _{Tours de Force, take a leap of faith}_

Yuna watches him pray. His proud height kneels near the maroon hearth, broad shoulders hunched, head bowed, smile solemn and humble. Praying hands peek behind holy cuffs. Yevon script embellish his colorful robes, twin "G" insignias emblazoned over his bosoms; heart of the warrior monk, his childhood dream. One long strip of silver cloth, the backbone of his fractured faith. Platinum tresses signify physical youth, mental maturity, and mysterious emotions.

Watching him despair over the loss of her father, yet appreciate his short-lived presence moves her heart. She asks for his hand and vows her eternal love. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes. I would be honored."


	51. Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crimson Squad Arc, part 8: Catalyst of future horrors.

**LI. Violence**

 _{Murder and massacre, seize the bloody day}_

A cavern awash with nightmares, a swarm of malignant pyreflies, of souls that leech off of people's memories and clings on to them; the Den of Woe. Stench of corpses both fresh and rotten permeates the musty air. Ear-splitting screams of pain and agony and despair soon ensue. Soldiers who have gone insane without reason begin to sing in chorus a morbid melody of death, and Nooj, Gippal, and Baralai are no different. They play along to the chords of murder and insanity –

"STOP IT!"

– until Paine saves them from themselves, from each other, from a lingering, malignant spirit that refuses to forget.

They exit the cave, none the wiser of future consequences.


	52. Cycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Story Arc, part 2: This time Baralai saves Yuna from herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanfiction of a fanfiction; _Sorrow has a Human Heart's_ unposted  Memories or Promises? chapter "Precipice."

  
**LII. Cycle**

 _{Circle of life, lost vigil, cut off loose ends}_

Baralai dreams of sand and palm trees, of waterfalls and miniature rainbows, of machina ruins and sun-kissed greenery. Valefor scales the skies, protecting an idyllic paradise, this island home to a mortal goddess. Deep, dangerous waters play with hopeful sportsmen. Families coexist in peaceful repetition, where violence disappears, and people pass on the baton of happiness within future generations. Children build their whole lives on chastity, until they bleed. Men challenge egos, until they bleed. Women conceive children, until they bleed. Death does not reach life, until they bleed. Spiral.

Baralai opens his eyes, and reality banishes sleep-induced imaginations.

Tingling in his feet compels him to stand before his balcony. Lovelorn eyes miss the last sunlight on the horizon, spying hibiscus flowers flutter in the distance while long twin rose petals dance around each other. Recognition spikes his panic and the Praetor makes haste.

Words echo the memory. "If you jump, you'll die… Lady Yuna!"

Ledge after ledge he descends, racing against time to reach the highest spire's base.

 _"Just believe."_

"I can't… not this time…"

 _"I can fly."_   


"I know. I know you can… but, please… not yet!"

Never again will Baralai look away. He will not wait and deliberate what-ifs. Not anymore.

She shall finish her dance. She shall bid her goodbyes. She shall dive into transcendent freedom. She shall leave the living world and her loved ones behind. _'I will prevent that. Tonight is not your time. I_ will _save you!'_

Baralai prays to the sky and sees a falling angel. Open arms he beckons, casting a mental incantation to snag her within gravitational energy, holding her afloat, easing her into slumber using a Sleep spell. Once he lowered her to solid ground, the invisible safety net dissipates and Baralai kneels beside her, touching her chilled cheek.

No one will know Baralai carried her back inside, where antiquity still reigns in a modern world and promises sanctuary.


	53. Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood Arc, part 12: They swear an oath of secrecy.

  
**LIII. Secret**

 _{There lies a fine line between ignorance and innocence}_

"Yuna. I'd like you to study this alphabet. Can you do this for me?"

Yuna nods, beaming, holding her mother's memento close to her heart, and Braska departs for his daily meditation. Surveying the temple, she approaches Yunalesca's statue and discovers a boy her age has stolen her favorite spot. He sits cross-legged and straight, eyes trained on the script of a scroll, face so pretty and serious she blushes. Yuna traces the crisscrossing lines of her mother's native language, murmuring the phonetic letters and spelling out a happy memory, before scavenging the courage to sit beside him.

He spares a glance, catching the strange symbols faster than Yuna can conceal them out of shame. "Hello. Er, can I see?" Curiosity guides his boldness to pull the tablet onto his lap, disregarding her timid fussing. "Can you read this? Truly? Will you teach me?" Yuna stares, uncertain. Baralai leans close and whispers as a priest walks by. "It's the Al Bhed alphabet, right? I tried to read it in secret, but Lord Zuke found out and burned the book Father Braska gave me."

Tiny hands wring on her lap, twisting her skirt, and Yuna dares to share something forbidden. "...please don't tell anyone. I don't want someone to burn it..."

Praying in Yevon, he smiles. "Cross my heart and hope to die."


	54. Gene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 13: "What are ya, a wannabe Yevon?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware the ancestor/descendant theory of a lifetime! :D ~~Yevon/Yunalesca -- > Baralai~~

  
**LIV. Gene**

_{Insanity nurtures a curse to survive throughout generations}_

Jecht senses it.

With the way that kid rips apart space, manipulates gravity to force-coalesce pyreflies into organic metal reminiscent of armor fashioned for Sin, Jecht muses the supernatural similarities - their natural affinity for gravity, their subconscious inclinations to play puzzle games, their annoying stubborn streak. Long-ago loyalty must have possessed this prodigal sage somewhere down the road.

Braska sees it. Auron suspects it.

Liquid ice flares bright in brown eyes. Platinum hair whips harsh against hostile energies. Absorbs energy beyond body, beyond mind, leeching straight from the soul. Ice magic mimics Stop spell mechanics. Resemblance like only one other; proud and powerful, dignified and pompous, most of all hapless and desperate.

"Why are you trying to stop me? I want to save her! Vegnagun is my last hope!"

Braska falters in the face of familiar evil. Auron stands helpless before an invisible force. Jecht knows if they don't save him now – not an ancient entity, but a human being –

Baralai will become a zombie, just like them.


	55. Measure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 14: The battle style of Praetor Baralai.

  
**LV. Measure**

_{Push it to the limit, outrun stamina at triple power)_

Baralai moves while wasting little effort. Making mental calculations where to strike next — Demi spells, Drill Shots, Looming Glaciers, Glints — changing his pattern of attack within a single moment to psyche them out every time.

His strength leaves much to be desired, yet his dexterity keeps them on their toes. Baralai out-dances Songstress Yuna and silences her battle cry; Baralai outwits Thief Rikku and steals her breath away; Baralai outmatches Alchemist Paine and stops her feet cold; Baralai outstrips these girls in skill, yet desk work has dulled his reflexes. The Gullwings will surely outlast him at this rate, three against one.

The Praetor can only fight for so long.


	56. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 15: In the wake of another evil, they live again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics and the ending lines homage to a song: "Valentine's Day" - Linkin Park.
> 
> This vignette serves as a semi-sequel to my one-shot Second Chances.

  
**LVI. Regret**

_{Second chances, alone at Valentine's Day)_

_Tweeeee~_

"What are you doing, Lady Yuna?"

Yuna gasps and twirls to face her intruder. The Praetor approaches, arms folded at his back, treading with a languid step in his walk. She smiles, self-conscious. "Good morning, sleepy-head."

Baralai attempts to conceal his frown behind his collar, as much as his shame. "...it is the late afternoon. No one thought to wake me up."

"You needed your rest. You deserve it." Yuna faces the horizon again as rushing wind carries the last of her tears. Baralai recognizes acceptance, of bidding adieu to a long-lost friend. "After what you've been through."

Footsteps weigh on crimson-polished metal, until they stop on the opposite side. Baralai touches the outstretched wing, curiosity a guise to his discomfort. The likeness has been sculpted feather by feather. He remembers a time where Summoners used to fly. Heartbreak has clipped the mockingbirds' freedom, yet this nightingale taught herself how to fly.

It has always been his dream. _Their_ dream.

The Navigator among the Engineer, the Pilot, and the Captain.

Baralai used to be his own protection, but now he has lost direction. The clouds above move closer, looking so dissatisfied, and the ground below grew colder as the heartless wind kept blowing. He finally has the chance to fly in the wake of a nightmare, only to fall when reality comes crashing back down.


	57. Rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Story Arc, part 3: Two men become unlikely rivals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written originally for Livejournal's Kiss Battle 2011! Dedicated to _owlmoose_ , prompt: "Beclem/Anyone, unexpected."

  
**LVII. Rivalry**

 _Expect the unexpected, friends of friends wage war)_

Baralai and Beclem take on the Gauntlet Challenge and tackle fiends together on their way to the finish line, a race to see who's faster, better, stronger. Neck to neck, they execute calculated sprints and eliminate fiends back-to-back, defending the other while one pauses to reload bullets. Trigger-happy shots clear the path, and the anguished cries of felled fiends resound in the distance.

Beclem stops at the foot of the sloping hill, adjusting the protective strap of his rifle to aim, eagle-gold eyes glaring at the machina Defender. Baralai leaps forth, balancing his feet on its bulky shoulders, digging the barrel of his pistol into some unseen nook. Energy ignites, rune glowing white-hot, and magic-imbued bullets burst inside the massive machina, mini explosions melting its interior. Metal arms lunge and swing at the assassin, jostling Baralai to slip around its Haymaker and duck beneath the brunt of Beclem's volley shots. Teamwork topples its obsolete might.

For the first time, seeing a game-face so ferocious and focused, Beclem does not acknowledge the Praetor as a woman with faux testicles. Baralai blows the smoke billowing from his pistol, and holsters it within the folds of his robe, allowing the brunette soldier to power-walk pass him and claim a new record.

Beclem stands straight, arrogant still, yet impressed, shouldering his weapon. "Nooj was right. You are not half bad." When the Praetor approaches with the sly smile of a cocky, calm Coeurl, he wants to retract that moment of absent criticism.

"Thank you. Your performance was excellent. I congratulate your victory." One bow disarms Beclem, reassuring the man with his vulnerable neck. Baralai snatches his hand in one swift motion, kissing it. Beclem feels his face warm and jerks his hand away, angered by his 'flattering' gesture of mockery.

"Want a rematch? Your score falls too short compared to the High Summoner."

"Of course. Rest assured I will not hold back this time."

  



	58. Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Ending Arc, part 10: A gentleman makes his first move on the woman he fancies.

  
**LVIII. Question**

 _{Click, puzzle pieces, mind over matter)_

"I am glad you came to visit again. Thank you."

"Of course. Anytime."

Paine and Rikku wait, watching them mingle while withholding witty remarks. They don't understand what those two leave unspoken in each farewell, ulterior motives wrapped in polite invitations. "Say, Lady Yuna..." Baralai stalls, distracted. The girls stop snickering and Yuna plays stupid.

"Yes?"

"Does anyone lay claim to your heart?"


	59. Laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crimson Squad Arc, part 9: "Look at you, trying to act like a hotshot."

**LIX. Laughter**

 _{Hugs and kisses are the cure to frustration and rejection)_

"Nooj didn't mean to say that." The recorder refuses to speak, refuses to acknowledge him, preferring to sulk at the lazy sand whirlwinds. Hands entwined at his back, Baralai purses his mouth, pensive, before breaking out into an amiable smile.

"I've learned to smile in the face of adversity." Embarrassed of the positive glow in his sincere eyes, Paine glances away, scowling, crossing her arms, yet this does not deter him. "C'mon. Let's give a shout out to Nooj. Here. I'll give a demonstration." He faces the empty, vast desert, taking a deep breath, inhaling, exhaling and inhaling again, giggling because of nerves, until he cups his mouth to project his voice –

"NOOJ, YOU IDIOT!"

Paine stares, wide-eyed and amazed, ghost of a smile and eager glee, and copies his silly stance. Standing side by side, they shout together, "NOOJ, YOU IDIOT!" once, twice, going on thrice, until they succumb to laughter. Baralai soon regains his breath and confesses an innocent, solemn sentiment.

"I don't want our time to be taken for granted."


	60. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Fantasy Arc, part 13: They join forces to fight against all odds.

  
**LX. Connection**

 _{Her angel, his savior, sexual tension, hurt and comfort}_

The young Summoner has become a magnificent sight to behold. Pristine white wedding gown. Elegant swan feathers are sewn onto the flowing hem. Hair fastened in a small ponytail, not one strand out of place. Perfection. Misery in disguise.

Once the servants leave, Baralai turns to face his master's fiance. Heterochromia symbolizes what he would have once considered blasphemous, if he had not known better. Humanity shines in her eyes; before guarded to conceal her emotions now tear from dread. The gaudy flower bouquet quivers in her grasp.

Baralai stays silent, patient to hear her speak, _'I doubt anything I can say will make her feel better,'_ and fails to mask his surprise at her unusual choice of words. "Will you allow me... one moment of weakness?"

"Whatever milady wishes."

Yuna glares, tight-lipped, an emotional far cry for help, and she leaps to close the distance. Baffled beyond words her bold embrace, Baralai steadies them both, disregarding her cloy scent and tantalizing body heat. _'This is... not the way to think.'_

"I-I'm scared..."

Despite being trained to school her emotions for the sake of completing her pilgrimage, knowing she'd have to die to defeat Sin... _'Yuna is still a teenager, and I am not much older than her.'_ Although taught laying hands on a wedded woman goes against proper code of conduct, he hesitates, until slipping his arms around her torso, squeezing her if only to quell her trembling.

"Seymour t-told me... hic... the Al Bhed Home had blown up. My Guardians – they were out there, trying to rescue me from the invasion. What if they didn't survive?"

"You don't know that for sure. Lord Seymour could have lied to manipulate you." Comfort comes as soft undertones from an unlikely enemy, an ally, a friend. Someone Yuna would feel proud and honored to have as a Guardian.

"I fear the worst for them. I-I don't know what to do!"

"You _should_ worry, but you should also put faith in them. Even if it kills you." _'Hypocrite,'_ he scolds himself. Tilting her chin up, he notices mascara streaming down her cheeks and forces a smile, using his sleeve to wipe the mess. Warm chiding lightens the tension. "See, now look what you've done. You ruined your make-up."

"I wish it was _you_ I had to marry."

Flattery flushes his face. "Then it wouldn't be a forced marriage. Whether or not your Guardians are alive matters not. What we _can_ do, however, makes all the difference. You must send Maester Seymour, and I will help you."

"B-but... how will you give me my staff?"

"I don't know, yet." He breaks eye contact and his uncertainty festers her fears, until kind words seduce her into silence. "I will come up with something. Do not worry. I will be nearby. You won't be alone out there." Reassurance reminds Yuna of her duty. His warm hands on her bare shoulders also remind her they are alone, away from paranoid eyes of the Guado.

"I... won't...?"

"No."

Yuna stands calm and unfaltering under his tender gaze, unaware a smile lights up her face; the first ray of sunshine after a storm. Baralai smiles, too, quite pleased of himself.

"You look beautiful."


	61. Blacklist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Fantasy Arc, part 14: Baralai does Seymour's dirty work and abducts his lord's bride-to-be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) "Drop your weapons..."
> 
> 2) "Never!"
> 
> 3) "Everyone under!"

**LXI. Blacklist**

 _{Mission search and destroy, damsel in distress}_

"On my signal."

Guado mages salute with languid nods. Fiends are obedient and standing by. Baralai taps a ring on his forefinger, pearl marble shimmering, proffering protection in form of a spherical wall. Unleashing a flash of thunderbolt short-circuits the wires, jamming the machina. Baralai flinches when the door slides open.

Dozens of Al Bhed sharpshooters await as sentries surrounding three Summoners. Seconds later a trio of Aeons materialize by the beck and call of their owners. Ifrit roars, Ixion neighs, and Valefor croons, whose wings obscure the young lady in the kimono dress. Stepping inside, he approaches, heart pounding, pausing to extend his left hand for his target to take.

"I'm sorry, milady, but Lord Seymour requests to see you safe and sound. Come."

"Please inform him I decline." Upon her bold declaration, the blonde men and women take aim, flaunting sacrilege and promising harm in wordless warning. The man in teal robes clenches his staff, face calm in contradiction to his trembling hands. A Guardian flanks each side, one a toddler and the other a boy reaching his prime. The second female Summoner glares daggers upon recognition while she strokes her canine beast, taming his impulse to pounce at bay.

"Tnub ouin faybuhc(1)... and no one will have to die."

"Rajan!"(2)

Rapid fire bullets ricochet, instilling temporary cracks in his barrier. Baralai pulls out a Gold Hourglass given to him by Seymour, reciting the activation spell, before planting it firm on metal ground.

Foreign energy delays incoming actions by simultaneous coercion and distortion of time perception. Aeons are immune, yet humans are rendered dumbfounded. Coherency has been disabled for sixty precious seconds, ticking one by one for every grain that dribbles to the bottom. Guado flood the chamber and wage battle against divine fury, martyrs for time while Baralai prepares his ultimate spell.

Magic accumulates in grave amount. Fingertips snap with a flourish. Darkness flares. Flesh suffers wicked frostbite, machina experiences swift corrosion, and eyes endure white-hot flashes to the psyche. Explosions erupt inside the chamber and black smoke permeates the spark-laden air. Baralai disorients victims near the brunt of his might and the majority of Guado exterminate survivors, banishing weakened Aeons and Al Bhed from the living realm.

He moves to retrieve Yuna, Summoners and Guardians alike stand up to defend their own, "Summon and I will spare no lives, including the child," and he torches their resistance to ashes. Semi-conscious and breathing slow, Yuna lies there, helpless as Baralai hitches her legs over one arm and holds her torso on the other, leaving blood, debris, and corpses in his wake as the intercom continues to blare.

 _"Ajanouha ihtan! Ajanouha ihtan!... Ajanouha ihtan!..." (3)_


	62. Hostility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Story Arc, part 5: Yaibal's debut appearance as comic relief.

  
**LXII. Hostility**

_{Youth versus Yevon, sparks fly and hell runs loose}_

"Yevon scum!"

Shrill, reluctant, faltering - this insult only falls on distracted ears.

Baralai blinks, dubious, and stands from his praying position before Braska's statue. Boy no younger than fifteen fidgets under his inquisitive look and spats in defense to his accusatory silence. "W-What?"

"Pardon me, but... are you talking to me?"

"Y-Yeah! Who else wears the symbols of Yevon here?"

"Who are you, may I ask?"

"Yaibal! I came here first! These Besaid spheres are now property of the Youth League!"

Incoming attempts of a budding bully does not amuse him. Baralai sighs, crosses his arms, mock contemplation, tempted to pick on the Youth League's "new guy." Islander kids come running inside from the village, tripping over bare feet while playing tag.

A light switches on in his head, and he smiles.

"Hello, children."

"Hi, Sir Priest~!"

"Hey! Don't ignore m–!"

"I need your help, everyone." Baralai kneels down to eye level and lures their gullible short attention span like sweet candy. "Listen to what I am about to tell you: this boy is true evil. He wants to steal High Summoner Yuna by tricking her to join the Youth League."

Chorus of angry shrieks resound. Yaibal pales and sputters and suffers rug burn when several children latch onto his limbs and tackle him down.

"What? That's not true! He lies! _He lies~!"_


	63. Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Story Arc, part 4: A Preator plans to pull his proverbial empire at the roots.

  
**LXIII. Pride**

 _{Salvage a fractured friendship, water under the bridge}_

"Make yourself at home, Lady Yuna."

"Thank you. I hope I'm not inconveniencing you..."

"Not at all. I am indebted to you in many ways. This is the least I can do. To be honest, I am a little excited. Grand my abode may be, it does feel quite lonely living by myself. It gladdens me to know I have company, however long you wish to stay."

"Well, I thought you needed a friend. I mean, it must be tough trying to disband New Yevon. Even with Gippal and Nooj's help, I can imagine you're struggling to convince the council..."

"Did Paine tell you?"

"Yes. She said, um, Nooj thinks you are being used by the older members because you promised to stand by them. I know it's not in my place to say anything, but, um..."

"Excuse me for interrupting, but I would prefer not to receive aid from you, milady, because it will arouse a broad range of mixed reactions if the High Summoner becomes involved. I simply ask you to avoid trifling with New Yevon politics."

"Oh. Um, I didn't plan on offering, but... okay. I'm just concerned, that's all."

"I appreciate the thought, however, I can handle this alone with Nooj and Gippal by my side."

"That, too, but I wasn't talking about New Yevon. Do you... feel alright? Sorry for being nosy. Paine mentioned you had symptoms and have trouble falling asleep–."

"I– I am doing better. You need not worry on my behalf. It flatters me you care, milady, and that is all I want. Payment for room and board is not necessary. Would you like my assistance to unpack?"

~

"No offense, milady," Baralai says, breaking the ice, turning his back on the woman who sympathizes with him most. "I want to accomplish this on my own."

Yuna never imagined him to voice such stern finality at a dire time of need and she missteps before spilling her stack of clothes. She stares, uncertain how to react. She heard the coldness in his tone right, the stiffness of his motions. Yuna clasps her hands, contemplating, eyes straying to a lone banner of Yevon and frowns, resenting the mastermind behind his willpower.

"If you say so... But, Baralai, don't forget I am here."

Thus begins Baralai's battle to prove his independence.


	64. Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crimson Squad Arc, part 10: Baralai begins his mission in the name of Yevon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics homage to Linkin Park's tracks "The Catalyst" and "The Requiem."

  
**LXIV. Calling**

 _{Broken people living under loaded gun, a thousand suns}_

Baralai shields his eyes from the sun, hand outstretched to cast shade. His sigh breezes impossible humidity. Hand on his hip, he scans his surroundings; sand, dunes, and more sand occupied by pitched tents and nervous recruits. The horizon ripples beneath a clear blue sky.

The first day of training. His first day of reconnaissance.

Maester Kelk Ronso entrusted him a secret task, an honor for a humble priest such as himself. _‘But how will I be able to keep tabs on Maester Kinoc if he insists on privacy and special treatment? I must learn the true aim of this exhibition.’_

Baralai muses the Maester organized everyone in teams, compacting individuals in consideration of their complementary strengths and weaknesses. Vague instructions demand they seek each other out by reporting immediately to their designated stations. Before embarkment, a lieutenant provided each person a basic map of continuously-shifting geography. Kinoc also issued uniform-custom guns. Square barrel, crimson insignia on hot metal, heavy clip loaded with death’s favorite lead, and a difficult trigger.

The gravity of his sacrifices did not occur to Baralai until this put his religious tolerance to the test. _‘Am I allowed, no,_ expected _to use this?’_

“Is there a problem?” Startled by the stern rhetoric, Baralai turns to regard his target. Plump and challenging the desert in orange robes, Wen Kinoc looks down on his inner conflict. “Man up, soldier. You’re not in Bevelle anymore.”


	65. Mold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Fantasy Arc, part 15: Yevon's manipulative children.

  
**LXV. Mold**

_{Two of a kind, respect your elders}_

_"Why do you serve such a despicable man?"_

Baralai never dared to disagree.

He had been many things to many people. Maester. Summoner. Monster. Manipulator. Human. A willing teacher, to a willing victim.

Seymour opened his eyes to reality, exposed the reviled truths behind Sin's birth without mercy. Mentored him through everything - developing immunities, analyzing the intricacies of Yevonic politics, and of the corruption predating Yo Mika’s time. Baralai inherited his silver-tongue and mysterious charm and pride of a sophisticate, yet retained some semblance of humility enough to admit sincere gratitude.

They were distrusting friends to the very end, but Seymour taught him how to live again.


	66. Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Story Arc, part 5: Cid forgives, but never forgets.

  
**LXVI. Remembrance**

 _{In memory of past horrors, beating a dead horse}_

Baralai breathes in the Bikanel heat. Nostalgia lingers in memory of explosions, drills, bloody murder, and friendship. Blowing sand and glaring light assaults his sight, and for some reason Baralai misses these unpleasant sensations. Once he disembarks, that hulking mass of ruination reminds Baralai he does not belong here. Death and mourning permeates humidity, and Baralai gulps.

The driver walks ahead and Baralai takes a moment to recover from motion sickness, before treading man-made bricks. Beneath him he senses the unnatural absence of compact earth, metal plating torn from invasion. Baralai knows. Baralai remembers. He hears the static screams in foreign tongue trapped within a single line of repetition. One inner demon haunts him still.

Al Bhed mill about, sweeping the area free of debris and corpses. Some are equipped with weapons to decimate the rubble into more manageable pieces while others hosed the rust and blood off salvageable parts. Baralai spies their bald leader, barking orders and overseeing the clean-up operation. Cid soon notices the Praetor's presence and sees the ghost of a dead man. Tall, humble, and open-hearted. Robes flicker and eyes implore communication. His niece trusts this man, journeyed through Hell and high water to save him - a friend, a lover, a leader of haters.

History repeats itself; this time he vows to make the right choice. Death and hatred shall never again be negative consequences.


	67. Gemini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 16: The Farplane Glen has become his sanctuary, his prison.

  
**LXVII. Gemini**

_{Someday the dream will end, a thousand words}_

_tweeeeeee~_

A whistle; this innocent sound splits the silence.

Baralai lifts his downtrodden head and he scrambles to his feet, drained and worn and wounded, mind anchored from distraction and miserable musings.

“H-Hello?” Baralai calls out to pyreflies and waterfalls and whispering flowers. All of a sudden he feels stupid. _‘Was it a figment of my imagination?’_

_tweeeeeee~_

There it goes again!

“Who’s there?”

No reply, except for a whistle – clear, soft, and resonant in velocity. _‘Lady Yuna?’_

Coalescence of waves and light answers his prayer, forging a pathway from the Glen to darkness above, where the world of Spira awaits at the surface. Someone striking and familiar waves at Baralai, all teeth and smiles. Impatient of his stalling, the blonde youth raises his fingers to his mouth and whistles. Loud.

His racing heart compels him to take a leap of faith. _‘Is he… showing me a way out?’_ Baralai moves forward; once close enough, fear places a name to his face and he staggers back upon unpleasant surprise. “Y-You…!”

_‘No, not again! I barely escaped the last time. I don’t think… I can repeat the same trick twice.’_

**_“There you are…”_** Nightmare reincarnate.

Baralai stiffens, his body cold and sweating from apprehension and bewilderment. Two? How can there be _two_ of them? The kind teenager in front of him, and the psychopathic Unsent looming behind him… both have the same face, same voice, same blue eyes…

This Utopian world of the dead and phantasm, Baralai cannot even begin to understand this place. What used to exist and what never gave breath, the fine line between life and death – it has been blurred through the ages. As old as the Aeons themselves.

Far too tired to resist, far too weary to fight, _'And I was so close... to escape...'_ Baralai blacks out.

_**“Thought you could elude me? We have a connection, you know. As long as my spirit still lingers in your soul, I’ll always be able to find you.”**  
_


	68. Willpower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 17: Baralai prays for escape by his own power.

  
**LXVIII. Willpower**

_{Death shall have no dominion, protectors of the earth}_

“N-No… I won’t… I-I won’t let you… control me again!” Shaking hands clutch at his abdomen as he hopes against hope his willpower will prove stronger and unbreakable against the Unsent. Metallic coldness brushes his fingers. _‘My pistol!’_

Mustering self-control Baralai withdraws the weapon and closes his eyes, reciting a mental prayer of acceptance for his past, of perseverance for his future. _‘Take heart… Have faith…’_ Eyebrows furrow from the strain of resisting psychological oppression, breaths falling shallower by the second. _'I can’t back down now.'_

Baralai aims the gun at himself. The trembling of his hands intensify. **_“Don’t you dare…”_**

Despite this dire situation, Baralai cracks a smile. He overestimated the thousand-year-old Unsent. No matter the magnitude of his grief, the power of his rage, a dead soul has no physical medium. To accomplish the task of using Vegnagun, Shuyin will need a living body to touch solid objects.

Baralai begins to pull the trigger and Shuyin protests, uncertainty echoing within his mind. _**“Y-You don’t know what you’re doing!”**_

Sweat trickles down Baralai’s face. He worries for his friends and fears for his life, which shackles his confidence from rising and anchors his body from moving. Baralai hates himself for it, feels ashamed for submitting to moments of weakness and hopelessness.

_‘What if… Lady Yuna can’t save the world? What if all I’ve done, to struggle and fight, doesn’t make a single difference in the end?’_

By no means does Baralai have the capacity to change the world like High Summoner Yuna can, but to endure the harshest of circumstances, no matter the calamity… _‘Is it not within human nature to survive?’_

Baralai stares straight into Auron’s eyes, whom makes no move to help him. How can he, when he has already perished? He made the Farplane his home, pyreflies and pretty illusions his company. This man no longer exists.

 ** _“Between knowing what you want to do and what you can’t…”_** Auron’s wise words pours strength into his resolve. _**“Are you aware of what has to be done?”**_

Thunderous sound of a gunshot pierces through perpetual nightfall.


	69. Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 18: In the end, Baralai couldn't stop himself.

  
**LXIX. Failure**

_{Daylight dies, midnight reigns, a far-away future}_

Shuyin's glowing silhouette pulls Baralai's body to move and Yuna dares to look into his eyes. Beyond the illusion, beyond the blue, beyond the brown lies a friend in need. Daunted by this most selfless and intimate task, her gaze wavers, crinkling in sadness. Hands clasp the phosphorescent sphere, pulsing with a heartbeat of its own, yearning to speak up and steal the spotlight. Colorful light recreates a songstress dress, fusing Lenne's will into her imminent acts and words.

Anxiety weighs on her heart, squeezing at her vocal cords. "Shuyin."

Remnants of his strength dwindle, under the mercy of irrational whims. In speechless plea, Baralai approaches, hoping for his lady to perceive, striving to say something desperate. "Lenne..."

Delusion of his beloved blinds the retinas, tunnel vision obscuring two silent spectators, enlightening the mind with memories murky from the millennium. Baralai knows better, he should know better, but he can’t break free using logic and independence anymore.

"There's something I must tell you. Words left unspoken for a thousand years." Dip of the head. Poignant pause. Eye contact implores understanding, and her confession takes his breath away. "I love you... A-And I'm grateful... grateful that you stayed with me, until the end."

"But, I couldn't save you!" Shuyin recalls the untimely hour of their demise, spontaneous escape plan foiled by the labyrinthine Undergrounds and warrior monks hot on their heels. Baralai recalls the unfortunate event of their confrontation, benevolent ego intercepted by the Gullwings's meddlesome concerns to terminate the Vegnagun menace. Reckless responsibility that proved to be its own downfall.

"It doesn't matter. Please. Don't go on grieving alone." Her empathy soothes Shuyin's soul, quells his hatred, calms the imminent storm. Yuna reaches out to him, a single praying hand, this sentiment symbiotic in its magnitude. Lenne desires to close the distance one last time and Yuna longs for love and intimacy once again. "Rest."

_'But... I want to live... please forgive me so I can live again...'_

Pyreflies tug at his body, pulling to be free from physical restraint, and Baralai collapses on his hands and knees. Shuyin rips apart from his host, stepping forward, smile jaded and weary. Nausea distorts his dim surroundings as clicks sprint in the distance, halting by his side. Failure. Baralai kneels and breathes on the personification of his failure. His failure to diffuse a near-Armageddon crisis. His past mistakes, his past hatred, his past hidden agendas mock his weak strength of character.

Strong hands pull and push him to stand, to walk, to sit, to lean against cold, organic metal of his evil making.

**_“We can finally fade... together...”_  
**


	70. Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 19: Lenne had nightmares, too, in the prison of Yuna's sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics were taken from the song "Lullabies" by the artist Yuna (no joke, guys).

  
**LXX. Lullaby**

_{Forever in my mind, only you, you were my first love}_

_"Save your tears, cause I'll come back."_

Lenne could still hear him whisper that as he walked out that door, and into a war.

Though Lenne can often recall she never found the strength to speak pass her doubt, she still relives that day, still hears him say, _"Wait for me, I'll write you letters."_

_'What if I said I couldn't wait? Would that have made all the difference?'_

The dream has yet to end, for the nightmare remains. Now here he stands before her, one millennium late of his promise and in possession of an innocent's body. A man unfamiliar to her, yet she knows him as the one who leads the lost, who smiles through the hate in his black eyes and raises his hand against his own friends ― all in order to protect the person most precious to him.

"Lenne? We disappeared together, but when I awoke, I was alone. I looked for you for so long…"

Solemn feelings fall alongside light and timid piano keys, superimposing a childlike sadness. This body that embraces her, it belongs to a noble soul, a human soul ― not unlike her beloved, the evil shadow of a thousand years.

Lenne likes this boy, because they share this quiet empathy ― a powerlessness that prevents them freedom to convey real emotion. Be it selfless or selfish, their lips are sealed.

_"what can I do for you? what can I do for you? I can hear you"_

They must rely on the voices of others to communicate.

If Lenne closes her eyes, like Yuna does right now, she will remember the dream that mingled with her host's hopes and dreams _and fears_. Remembrance traps her in the memory: the hope of a new Yevon, a better system, and the hope for another tomorrow where she comes that much closer to him, one step at a time, one step, one jump, and Yuna runs at full force. She runs to embrace him on sun-kissed waters, runs to escape the Bevelle monks hot on their heels, holding his hand so tight her fingers slip off leather and sweat. They arrive at a dead end and behold the cruel limelight, unable to fight their fate when one man _instead of a thousand_ stalks through that dark threshold with gun in hand. His crimson helmet hides his heartless visage as he stops on one knee and takes aim, takes a step back one step at a time, and takes off his mask ―

_"Vegnagun must not be touched" **"Vegnagun will make that all go away"**_

_"What are you planning to do?" **"You must stop!"**_

_"The only thing I can do…" **"Suffer!"**_

It's his face ― "I finally found you" ― Baralai's ― his faraway face, and his cry of bloody murder. Always Baralai, in her nightmares.

His voice echoes in the cataclysm of history, and so does hers.

_"The world is changing, and there are many who are finding it difficult to keep up…"_

_"Although I know the journey will be hard, we have lots of time. Together, we will rebuild Spira. The road is ahead of us, so let's start out today."_

_"New Yevon wishes to help those who feel lost in the winds of change."_

_"The people and the friends that we have lost"_

_"A pleasure, Lady Yuna. I am Baralai"_

_"and the dreams that have faded"_

_"Ah. It's not much, but"_

_"never forget them"_

_"Here. Have this as a token of my friendship"_

They sound so alike, souls in ever changing harmony with their ideals. Their hearts beat to the same drum, Lenne can sense it―the percussions of their broken faith, the strings of their resilient spirit, and the lyrics of their individual swan songs (before the beginning of the next movement called "The Eternal Calm.")

_'Whose feelings are these? Lenne's? Mine?'_

Lenne wonders that herself.


	71. Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Story Arc, part 6: The beginning of love letters sent over the course of Yuna's uneventful life and Baralai's busy work schedule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote in italics taken from the song "Lifted Up (1985)" by Passion Pit.

  
**LXXI. Letter**  


_{The flickering light's just a flame, I'm so tired}_

_Dear Lady Yuna,_

_I hope life has been kind to you._

It had only been four days after the Vegnagun crisis when Yuna received a letter via air mail. Crisp, cream parchment sealed with personal feelings, and Lulu had held onto it for her until Yuna returned from her daily morning swim.

_I write this to you_  
_As we are many miles apart,_  
_Surrounded by a crescendo of sounds._

His opening lines flatter her, despite the paternal look Wakka throws her way. _I am sitting in a sandwich shop right now, ordering my lunch when you happen to cross my mind,_ he had written, _Gippal teases me to no end, of course, but Nooj on the other hand..._

Elegant handwriting lightens in sync to his anxiety, his words bolder by polite flirtation and tentative fondness. Her mind's eye conjures his present image unbidden; back straight, legs folded, lovely eyes focused, his handsome face calm in concentration. She smiles despite herself, and the giggle that escapes her only serves to frighten Wakka.

_I wonder how you are doing. Do you fare better than I come sleepless nights? It haunts me, and so much has been left unspoken between us..._

Yes. Like her love for a fleeting dream.

Yuna closes her eyes.

~

_Dear Baralai,_

_I'm glad to hear from you._

Several days after his first letter had been sent, the wrinkled response lies clutched in his hands. However, the Kilikan ambassador decided to make her cousin's privacy difficult to accomplish. They fall back into childhood routine where Dona accosts the object of his affection, goading him to drop all pretense, and Baralai stalks after her when she starts to retreat from his withering looks.

_Your way with words always impress me. Have you ever thought about writing your own book? But I don't see you writing an autobiography so maybe not..._

_Did you know? Wakka and Lulu have a baby now! I babysit him sometimes when the parents want to... um... Never mind._

_Well, how are you feeling nowadays?_

"Finally!" Paper almost rips upon possessive ensnarement, and Baralai steps aside to dodge her undignified lunge. "Do not force me to employ gravity on you." His playful threat falls silent on insolent ears, and he continues his trek down the outdoor corridor, walking faster when sensing Dona's approach.

_I have trouble falling asleep, too, for my own reasons... Maybe we should find a way to eliminate this problem we share. Any suggestions?_

_Oh, I know! You should come vacation in Besaid._

"I think we both know what she wants–."

"Quiet, you."

_If you ever need a friend, I'm here._


	72. Ouroboros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Story Arc, part 7: Baralai tries to disband New Yevon, with little success.

  
**LXXII. Ouroboros**

_{Destroy what destroys you, say the worst thing}_

"I am glad you all could attend today."

"What is the meaning of this, Praetor?"

They hold a meeting off the record; door locked by tradition, the room soundproof and a favorite of Maesters passed. His cryptic urgency seeps through his calm mask, incriminating his impatience, of tireless months gone and excuses made and tolerated.

Baralai smiles. No more.

"Are you familiar with the tale of the Ouroboros?"

"Ahem. Praetor, if I may presume... we have no time for your scholarly inclinations–."

"It is the snake that eats its own tail, a symbol of life, death, and rebirth. A vision of immortality and renewal. It promotes power, elegance, and dynamism. Fascinating, isn't it? We should aspire towards that."

"...I'm afraid we do not follow."

"Is this in any way relevant to our goals?"

"But of course. This has everything to do with New Yevon. You see..."

The chair screeches. With his hands in his sleeves, Baralai circles the room. One step at a time.

"I grow weary of this cycle. We reap fruitless grounds none of you desires to abandon. It has become apparent to me..." Baralai glowers at his fellow men and women, withdrawing his favorite instrument of destruction. "Compromise became an option impossible to plant. Consider yourselves relieved of your positions."


	73. Criminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Story Arc, part 6: Baralai pursues the renegade Trema into Via Infinito.

  
**LXXIII. Criminal**

_{Descend into darkness, the depths of pure insanity}_

Rumor has it Trema's previous profession involved taming beasts. It made sense why he unleashed his precious fiends into the catacombs of Bevelle, making secrets their nest.

Baralai approaches him unarmed; the man had no intention of fighting, of surviving.

Stardust shrivels into ashes, spelling his death wish.

"Do not think I don't know who you are, Baralai. Wen Kinoc's beloved soldier, Seymour Guado's favorite vassal, and Kelk Ronso's trusted protégé... Lady Yuna may be the paragon of pastlessness, but you — You are the Navigator of Spira's future!"

Baralai turned his back and left him there to rot, in denial of past-lives and wrongs committed.


	74. Insanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Story Arc, part 7: Baralai fights the ghost of Yunalesca, losing sense of reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Direct follow up to **XXXVII. Turmoil.**

  
**LXXIV. Insanity**

_{Did you get lost inside? Did you disappear?}_

Rising forth like a spiral, Baralai begins to dance.

Millennium-long rebellion blasts into being and Baralai plants his feet firm, parting the sea of raw turbulence with his Razor Rod. Yunalesca abandons mercy and re-animates the ultimate demon, platinum silk twining into its brain-stem.

_**"You are not in the proper state to Send anyone, son of Yevon."** _

He charges once the coast clears, into the jaws of Hell.

He stomps on skulls that lash out with venomous fangs, feet light and fast, bouncing on the stairs of his demise, and Baralai leaps to land before the lounging ghost. Crackling ice dispels his weapon, rendering his left hand numb and useless. He readies another pistol with his right hand, and Yunalesca flicks her wrist again to disarm him. Undeterred, Baralai plunges to punch her, yet her instantaneous force-field propels him away.

His teleportation spell warps him up to speed, placing him above her, and his fists begin to glow white. Gravity amplifies his rapid descent; the collision extracts her from the fiend feeding off her life force. Pyreflies dispel from solid form, permeating the chamber. Human hands constrict around the neck of a corporeal ghost, connecting target to recipient. Absorption risks sanity, causing evil light to seep into (from) his skin.

Yunalesca shrieks like a siren, relinquishes Mind Blast —

And calm delirium reminds Baralai of his true aim.


	75. Growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Story Arc, part 8: Baralai confronts the spirit of Lord Seymour's late father.

  
**LXXV. Growth**

_{You broke me up inside, brought me back to life, now I breathe again}_

_**"My son must be stopped... You are... his living legacy... You must perish!"** _

_Snow storms._

_Whimsical manslaughter._

_"What I do, Baralai, I do to enlighten you."_

_The wind roars, then howls, mirroring the defiance and anguished cries of a proud race, and he prays, collapses on his knees, prays to die, cries his heart out into white skies, and a blood-curdling scream shakes the very foundations of the mountain._

Pain and anguish injects poison into his veins, as if Baralai just absorbed the rage of a thousand Ronsos. He goes on a rampage, lashing out at illusionary foes, and in a split-second, in a single, feeble thought that belonged to him and no one else, conjures a prison of water to stop himself in his tracks. Only does the berserk spell shatter like diamond dust does he regain his senses, vowing vengeance in the name of his fallen allies.

(fallen by his berserk mindless bloody red hands)

Horrified by his actions, Baralai releases his magical cage and collapses to his knees. Red liquid stains his hands and clothes, and he gasps for breath, wanting nothing more than to vomit. Staggering to his feet, he does not look away from the carnage and turns to blame the malevolent spirit responsible for his lapse in sanity. 

"My master may have dyed my heart black, but Maester Seymour... He taught me how to live again, and you... You stole his will to live! You are not a father. You are not worthy of the title Maester. You are a monster." Baralai snarls. "Like father, like son!"

Spindly limbs stretch and twist, growing into polished pieces of a black jigsaw puzzle.


	76. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Story Arc, part 9: Baralai faces the first of his inner demons.

  
**LXXVI. Nightmare**

_{Alone in the darkness, left to hold out against the tide}_

Baralai never expected this. In his most gratifying nightmares, yes.

Where his death plays again, again, and again once more, with all the reminder for gratification. His last memory alive must agonize him in the afterlife, because look at where he stands now; no Farplane to promise peace, only the deep, dark, dead-end corridors of the Via Infinito.

The memory comes to life before his very eyes, coinciding with his own.

_There he stands, fortifying the path._

_Warrior monks die quick deaths, but that man — Wen Kinoc — he wants to save him for last. Baralai desires to see him hurt and savor his suffering._

_With a single shot, the rifle clatters to the ground. Kinoc cradles his wrist, swaying on his feet soon after, forced onto his knees under invisible pressure. Baralai proceeds to bolster the Gravity spell, allowing for relentless pain to assault his internal organs. He will not stop, no matter how much Kinoc screams, no matter how much it saps his strength, until that sinner cannot move, or breathe, or even_ survive. 

_He will crush_ everything _for what he is worth. He is worth_ nothing _, and he will become nothing in death._

'Nothing will stop me from fulfilling this revenge.'

Baralai breathes, like the first time Maester Kinoc taught him how to clear his mind and control his emotions on the battlefield.

All the wrath he never released then, for the sake of propriety, for stealth —

"Why won't you stay dead?! You insufferable cur!"


	77. Crimson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 20: Yuna watches the first of eight crimson spheres.

  
**LXXVII. Crimson**

_{Don't give up, we are the one true hope}_

_"This is rough―"_

Yuna hears his voice over the scratch and flicker of lightwaves, sees his face somehow behind all that annoying static, trying to understand this unbelievable sight. Baralai, in Bikanel Desert? Holding a rifle, _a machina_ , sitting next to Gippal, _an Al Bhed_ , and ― is that Nooj? The three most important men in Spira, together? And they're not at each other's throats?

_"My name's Baralai. I'm from Bevelle. You?"_

No answer from the Mevyn who marches on, and Gippal grumbles his complaint.

_"I've seen this a hundred times… Yup, a lot of people'd sooner shoot an Al Bhed than tell 'em their name."_

Silence, and then a dry chuckle. _"Hmph. It's Nooj."_

Never in her wildest imagination, but then again she did see them below the grounds of Bevelle―

Yuna closes her eyes, taking a step back.

It wouldn't be strange to see Gippal there, close to Home. Nooj goes wherever his warrior heart calls for battle; hadn't he been a Crusader once? The fact she found Baralai of all people in this mysterious crimson sphere alongside the current leaders of Spira's factions surprises her most of all, but there must be a reason. Baralai doesn't seem like the type of person to do anything just because he feels like it.

_'Wait, why do I feel so concerned? He can take care of himself, but... will he end up killing Nooj? I wonder how they're all doing in the Farplane…'_

Shinra decodes the time of its recording: two years ago, sometime during or before the start of her pilgrimage.

Baralai faces the recorder with kind eyes and a warm smile, quite unlike the cold mask of the man who almost tried to kill her.

Praetor of New Yevon, once an agent of Yevon, now her enemy―

_'Who are you?'_


	78. Diabolos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Story Arc, part 10: Baralai rises to the seat of power.

  
**LXXVIII. Diabolos**

_{This is not the right way, this is not the right way}_

The written word dissatisfies him.

Drives him to inaction, the Mevyn's name second on the blacklist.

Black ink bleeds onto paper, unlike the bite of the bullet on crimson crying skin. A feather quill constructs a message of compromise, the feel of softness on tense knuckles like an angel's blessing. Nothing like the silvery cold metal of a pistol, the pull of the trigger releasing an explosion of bitter heart.

Silence and excessive scrawling mutes the memory - of a scream, of a murder misplaced, of an unsolved conspiracy spun.

Sin drowns him to want and never reach for the light.


	79. Wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New World Arc, part 21: The world had changed since Yuna last looked.

  
**LXXIX. Wonder**

_{In the wake of tradition, a new world rises from the ruin}_

"I know everything."

Yuna smiles, appraising the Al Bhed child who never sees the light of day in his protection suit. "Okay. Then tell me about the factions."

Shinra bends over with his small arms spread across the master keyboard, typing away at the buttons. She watches him input commands like how a Besaidian tailor spins cloth, gloved hands moving so fast she can't hope to keep up. Seconds later a panoramic view of Bevelle pops up on screen and Yuna gasps.

The holy capital of Spira, Yuna's birthplace. Painted with brushstrokes of crimson and magenta, tall spires and skyscrapers color the city with glowing blue feather embroidery and black, runic letters. The blue of the sea and the blue of the sky surrounds this majestic metropolis, somehow left untouched by the ravages of Sin. Adults would tell their young children they were blessed by the teachings of Yevon themselves, yet she knew better, the damp underground passageways of Bevelle's secret catacombs and the fiends that prowl the dungeons.

"There are three ruling powers of Spira right now," Shinra says, reading off the text. "New Yevon was the first to form. It's a political organization built upon the temples and teachings of Yevon. It was founded by Trema, a pioneer in the search for Spira's true history."

Yuna tries not to dwell on the memories that misery begets; instead, she thinks about the embarrassing memory from few months back in Besaid. Wakka had found her on the waterfall path, in the middle of one of her daily walks, warning her about the Praetor who visited the village with the obvious intent to court her. She never met the man, nor did she ever grace him with a proper answer.

If she never left so suddenly to join Rikku and the Gullwings as a sphere hunter, where would she be in life? Stuck on the island, mourning her lost love? Or be by the side of a powerful politician who would only see fit to use her?

Shinra's voice anchors her back to the present.

"New Yevon seems to have inherited some of the temples' furtive nature. It has been accused of hoarding spheres collected by Spira's sphere hunters. However, it also serves as a pillar of support to those overwhelmed by the rapid changes that continue to rock Spira. The young Praetor Baralai leads this party."

"Praetor Baralai?" she says, trying to hide her curiosity. _'So that's his name…'_

Expecting to see another pop-up image, perhaps a full body image or profile picture of his face, Yuna frowns in disappointment when Shinra closes the window. He drags two more into view; Youth League captions the top of one window, Machine Faction on the other.

"Yeah. I heard he's only been in office for a month or two. Don't know much about him, 'cept he's the new guy." And as Shinra continues to talk about the other two factions, Yuna zones out and dares herself to like the idea of New Yevon. She will never forget the soldiers who have fought for Spira, losing their lives and many of their comrades to Sin following the failure of Operation Mi'ihen, but at least the disbanded Crusaders have found a new purpose in Mevyn Nooj. And now that the Al Bhed are without Home and are becoming more accepted across Spira, they have risen up to the challenge of bringing more liberal thinking into their craft – creating new things, not building on the old – as the _Machine_ Faction, discarding the stigma of machina. In spite of these sweeping developments, she will always feel this profound and inexplicable connection towards Yevon no matter how much she wants to deny it.

Yuna wonders what kind of person Baralai had to be for everyone to look up to him with unquestionable respect. A youth her age, or a priest perhaps. Someone who accepted the role to lead _thousands_ , men and women, old and young alike.

The man whose hand she rejected for the memory of a fleeting dream, what does he look like in person?

If only she can find the courage to meet him someday.


	80. Initiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Story Arc, part 11: Baralai and the nature of a Seeker.

  
**LXXX. Initiation**

_{I have changed, just like you, for how long must I wait}_

Baralai fills the shelves, book by book.

Baralai catalogues the histories of cities, date by date.

The rise and fall of civilizations, the pioneers of technology, the genealogies of Spiran families, Baralai organizes them all. Day by day, searching the past to find the future.

New Yevon considers this the ideal punishment, hoping to imprison him within boredom. Seymour Guado may have granted him sanctuary in the past, but their private association implied favoritism, giving priests reason to frown and politicians to smile. They see his potential to lead the lost. Future figurehead; the perfect puppet. His initiation as a Seeker planted him in the grand library of Bevelle's secrets. Drowning him in the sea of information, they had planned to break the young man down into servitude, yet did not count on his thirst for knowledge to motivate him into proactivity.

Baralai took time to recover after the Eternal Calm, returning home to his parents, but being coddled by their concerns never did anything for him. Toiling away at regret, at grief and anguish, clutching at the burning cords of his unfulfilled feelings for vengeance, he didn't want to spend the rest of his life trapped in the past. In the memory of absolute powerlessness. Slow weeks of contemplation made him realize he wanted to _do_ something. Be a part of this frightening, new world. 

And so he fills the shelves with broad spines of ancient history. He feels the years under the caress of his fingertips. Decades and centuries that overshadow his own lifespan. Baralai feels the self-insignificance, feels the precious flow of time encroaching upon his youth. The time to write his story anew will have to wait. Spira needs him to help others like himself move forward.

_'But can I do it? I'm not High Summoner Yuna.'_

He shakes his head, stops himself from thinking too much, sighs at the thought of waiting for a retiree to emerge from the memories of a broken dream. Yuna wrote her story, what more can she do for Spira? Everything. But as time goes by, less and less people believe in her return to the world at large until Baralai believes he alone holds frustrating faith. The masses hope for new champions in this era of change.

Baralai shall work to become this new champion for the people in Yuna's place.

Sometimes Baralai would reward his efforts with rare texts and dilapidated scrolls, which he would read well into the night. Anything on Zanarkand, anything related to Bevelle predating the Machina War. He never neglects his personal agendas, not for one minute. It just happens his selfless desire to better the world complements his goals for vengeance.

 _Knowledge is power_ , he chants the childhood motivator, sifting through hidden records and war letters, reading through faded script over and over, searching for signs or a clue to the existence of the apparition he saw back then. _Repetition is knowledge, and knowledge is power._

Another day spent absorbing more knowledge brought him closer to the truth.


	81. Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Story Arc, part 8: Baralai struggles to disband New Yevon.

 

  
**LXXXI. Resolve**

_{Grind the block to dust, stay up and fight}_

_Throughout the day, every day, I work so hard._

_I no longer want to lead a broken nation bent on redemption._

_I don’t want to answer to anyone anymore. I want to be my own man._

_I want freedom. I want escape. I want an end to this pointless fallacy. What must I do to make this a reality?_

In the darkness of his room, in the silence and solitude, he succumbs to weakness.

Those are the thoughts Praetor Baralai harbors while crouched in front of his bedside with his hands clasped tight in prayer. He stays up to fight his inner demons, refuses to sleep early and let the anger fuel his nightmares. In the three months since he returned to office, he struggles to chip away at the loose ends. He wakes up a new person come morning, someone older and tired by the time evening rolls. By day he plays the unpopular politician who wishes to pull his empire by the roots, by night endeavoring to win over the stubborn hearts of his elders. 

One step at a time, without missing a step.

The promises he made to sustain the cause are withering his self-resolve. How can he show the elders, the entire council, Spira doesn’t need New Yevon anymore?

_'How can I prove it to you? That I don’t need you, my vengeance is gone.'_

If Nooj can disband an entire faction, so can he.


End file.
